


Return to Your Roots

by isthisenoughorcanwegohigher



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, and the reason things like AVPM exist, and then originally taken down from FFN, as long as you disclaim the fact that you don't own the HP copyright, before you start reading:, but just to be clear:, have a good day :D, i have studied the copyright rules for harry potter, is because while it's not public domain, so this is legal as long as I disclaim every time that i don't own HP, the intellectual rights of Harry Potter™ belong to JK Rowling Warner Bros and Scholastic Publishing, which i have been, you can use the source material for ANYTHING
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-15 12:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18073088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisenoughorcanwegohigher/pseuds/isthisenoughorcanwegohigher
Summary: Not moments after Arthur Weasley returns from St. Mungo's, interrupting an argument between Sirius and Severus, the residents of Grimmuald Place are swept away to a mysterious location. There, they meet up with characters from the past and present and are given a choice- read the seven books presented to them in hopes of preventing a terrible future, or allow this future to happen.





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

_“Merlin’s beard,” said Mr. Weasley, the smile sliding off his face, “what’s going on here?”_

Before anyone could give him an answer, a chill swept through the house, and the occupants of Grimmauld Place found themselves standing in an unfamiliar room furnished with a rather long oak table and several chairs.

“Snivellus, I don’t know what kind of curse this is, but whatever you did, fix it,” Sirius demanded.

“I’ll have you know, Black, that I didn’t do anything,” Snape said.

Sirius scoffed. “That doesn’t seem likely.”

“Actually, I think it does.” Sirius turned and found himself facing none other than Albus Dumbledore, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

“What do you mean by that, Albus?” questioned Molly.

Dumbledore smiled knowingly and waved a folded piece of parchment in the air. “Not moments before we all arrived here I received this on my desk. I believe that we have been summoned here.”

“By who?” Ron said.

“By whom,” Hermione corrected.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“That’s an excellent question,” Dumbledore said. “However, I believe first some introductions are in order?”

“Introductions?” Sirius laughed. “Unfortunately, I believe we’re all quite familiar with each other.”

“While that is true, I do believe we are not alone. Follow me.” Dumbledore spoke quietly. He led the group into a larger room, where a number of other people were already waiting. Dumbledore cleared his throat, gathering the attention of everyone in the room. “I think it would be best if we went in a circle and introduced ourselves?” Dumbledore asked, gesturing to the group. He was met with nods, and in some cases, sneers of agreement. Everyone standing scurried to an open spot and sat.

“So…” Sirius drawled. “Who wants to start?”

“I will,” Percy spoke up. “I’m Percy Weasley.” Fred and George scoffed at their older brother. He rolled his eyes.

“Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.”

“Dolores Umbridge.”

“Amelia Bones.”

“I think you all know me,” said Hagrid.

“Molly Weasley.”

“Arthur Weasley,” Arthur said, squeezing Molly’s hand and smiling.

The next name sent a shock wave through the group. “James Potter,” said the man with unruly black hair, glasses, and hazel eyes. Harry stared at the man, his face somewhere between a look of shock and anger and a look of overwhelmed joy. Snape and Sirius stared at the man in question. James waved and smiled brightly. “Hi, everyone!”

“James?” Remus, who was also present, asked hoarsely. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s an excellent question, Mr. Lupin, but perhaps we should continue our little introductions before we answer it,” Dumbledore said. Remus nodded, still staring at James.

“Well, uh, I’m Lily,” ventured the woman sitting next to James. “Lily Evans Potter.” She rubbed her stomach gently. “And this here is going to be Harry James Potter.” Harry moved his shocked gaze to his mother. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione elbowed him.

“Severus Snape, Potions master,” Snape said lowly, with eyes only for the redheaded woman he’d sat down next to.

“Draco Malfoy,” the blond boy sneered, crossing his arms and legs tightly. “And I’d rather be anywhere but here with these Mudbloods and blood traitors.” Ron hissed and made a move to grab his wand. Molly shot him a disapproving look, and his hand stilled.

“Regulus Black,” said the young Sirius look-a-like. Sirius’s hand flew to his mouth. Harry and Remus moved forward to support him as his knees buckled, but he shooed them away.

“Sirius Black,” he said, throwing his arms around his younger brother and pulling him down onto the couch next to him.

“Uh…” Harry cleared his throat, realizing it was his turn. He glanced fearfully towards Hermione, suddenly unsure. She nodded at him and shot him a confident smile. “Hi,” he said, making a face that he hoped was a smile. “I’m Harry Potter.”

“Harry?” Lily squeaked, her eyes widening. Her hands flew to her mouth. Harry nodded.

“Remus Lupin”, Remus interjected, hoping to rush the introduction process along before the tensions in the room boiled over.

“Albus Dumbledore,” Dumbledore smiled.

“Professor McGonagall,” Minerva said coolly.

“I’m Forge,” said George.

“And I’m Gred!” said Fred.

“Behave, boys,” Molly hissed. The twins grinned unapologetically.

“Sorry, Mum,” they said. “Shall we continue?” A hysterical laugh rippled through the group. Draco, Fudge, Snape, and Percy observed this with a sneer.

“Well, I’m Ginny Weasley,” Ginny said, sinking into the nearest couch.

“Hermione Granger,” Hermione said.

“Ron Weasley.”

“Neville Longbottom.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore chuckled. He gave a slight nod to Lily, who was sitting on the edge of her seat and staring at her son. “I’d wager a guess that several of you would like the chance to mingle before we discover why we’ve all been gathered here?”

Dumbledore received no verbal response. Instead, Harry found himself in the rib-crushing embrace of one Lily and James Potter. It was a strange feeling to him, but it felt right, and for the first time since Harry had step foot in the Gryffindor tower his first year, Harry was overwhelmed by the feeling that he was home.

Lily sighed and pulled away enough to cup Harry’s face. “Are you really my Harry?” she asked. “My Harry, all grown up?”

“Of course it is, Lils, he’s got your eyes,” James said.

“Yes, and your unruly hair,” Lily chuckled, drinking in her son’s appearance.

Harry felt his face turning red. “Hi Mum, Dad,” he said, voice cracking. “It-it’s good to see you.”

“I think that’s an understatement, Harry,” Remus said. He and Sirius joined the tiny family reunion.

“Moony!” James grinned. “Padfoot! You guys look…old,” he commented.

Sirius’s lips twitched. “And you don’t look a day over 20,” he said.

“Almost 20,” James corrected. “One month to go.”

“So you’re 19 right now?” Remus asked. “God, you’re so young!”

James scoffed. “No need to sound so surprised, Moony. You’re talking like you haven’t seen me in years. Surely the war hasn’t gotten that bad, not if you know Harry?”

Sirius looked away, an odd expression on his face. Remus swallowed and found a sudden great interest with the hem of his sleeve.

Lily sighed. “Harry?” She asked, staring at her son. “How bad is it?”

“Well, uh, I don’t really know…you?” Harry’s voice cracked. He pulled away from Lily’s embrace and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You were…Voldemort killed you both when I was a baby.”

“Oh,” Lily said. Her hand was on her mouth again, and her emerald eyes were watering. “Oh, Harry, I—“

Harry waved his hand. “It was alright,” he said. “I…did alright.”

Sirius snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Sirius!” Harry hissed.

“What do you mean?” James demanded, glancing from Harry to Sirius.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “I believe everything will be explained if we sit and read this letter.” He held up the parchment again. “Shall we all be seated?” This statement was met with a flurry of movement and grumbling. Dumbledore opened the parchment and began reading.

“Dear friends and family: We have gathered you here to give you a chance to change what happens in the future. Not to be blunt or anything, but a lot of you will be dead by the end of the second war.”

“Second?” Lily interrupted, incredulous. “Sorry,” she added. “Continue.”

“A lot of you will be dead by the end of the second war,” Dumbledore read. “And these deaths do nothing to prevent a third war. We wish this was not the case, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances did nothing to change the sacrifices of the deaths that for you have yet to happen.

Once you reach the end of this letter, seven books will appear. These seven books document Harry’s seven years in school—“

Harry groaned.

“—And they are your opportunity to change the future that we live in for the better. Please take care of each other. No pressure, but try and change things, too. We’re counting on you. Much love, A.S.P. and S.H.M.” Dumbledore finished reading and set the parchment down on the table in front of him. Next to the letter, the air shimmered, and a stack of books appeared.

“Well,” Minerva said. “Are we actually supposed to read these?”

“I vote no,” Harry offered.

“I say we read them,” James said. “If I’m dead to you all by this point, anyways, I’d like to know about my son’s life.”

“As would I,” said Lily.

Harry ran his hands through his hair. “That’s really a bad idea.”

“It could be fun, Harry,” Hermione said. “And logically, it could give us a way to defeat You-Know-Who.”

Harry looked pained. “Hermione…”

“Let’s put it to a vote,” Minerva said. “Those who do not wish to proceed with reading these books, raise your hand.” Among the people to raise their hands were Snape, Draco, and Harry. They all glanced at each other. Draco sneered at Harry, who sneered right back.

“Those who wish to proceed with reading the books?” The rest of the group raised their hands.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Sorry, kid, looks like you’re outvoted!” He said, winking at Harry. Harry sighed and leaned as far back into the couch as he could, wishing he could disappear.

“Well, who would like to start?” Minerva asked.

Neville raised his hand. “I will.” He grabbed the book on the top of the stack and opened it. “ _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Chapter one, The Boy Who Lived…._ ”


	2. The Boy Who Lived

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously _:_

            Neville raised his hand. “I will.” He grabbed the book on the top of the stack and opened it. “ _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. Chapter one, The Boy Who Lived…._ ”

 

Now:

“ _Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense._

_Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills.”_

Arthur perked up. “What are drills?” he asked.

            “Uh, they’re a tool used to put holes in walls and such to hang things or hold things together?” Hermoine said.

            “Fascinating,” said Arthur, eyes sparkling.

            Fudge cleared his throat. “If we are to in all seriousness read these books, may I suggest getting back to them?”

            “Right, of course, my apologies,” said Arthur. “Go ahead, Neville.”

            A shadow of a grin crossed Neville’s face. He cleared his throat. “ _He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.”_

“Wait,” said Lily. “Wait a minute. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley? This isn’t actually about Petunia and her awful new husband, is it?”

            Harry snorted. “If you want to put it mildly.”

            Neville shot Harry a look. “May I continue?”

            “Yeah.”

            “ _The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere._

_The Dursleys had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn’t think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters. Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley’s sister, but they hadn’t met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn’t have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be. The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street. The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small son, too, but they had never even seen him. This boy was another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn’t want Dudley mixing with a child like that.”_

            “A child like that?” Amelia asked, her tone icy. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

            “Tuney was never a big fan of magic,” Lily said, her eyes darkening.

            “ _When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country,”_ Neville continued, reading over Lily’s muttering. “ _Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most bring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair._

_None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window._

_At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.”_

Harry chuckled. “So he was always like that,” he mused.

            “ _“Little tyke,” chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four’s drive._

_It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar—a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Dursley didn’t realize what he had seen—then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn’t a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive—no, looking at the sign; cats couldn’t read maps or signs.”_

            Minerva’s lips turned up in a hint of a smile.

            “ _Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that day._

_But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn’t help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Dursley couldn’t bear people who dressed in funny clothes—the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren’t young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak!”_

            “All these people, violating the Statute of Secrecy!” Percy said, indignant.

            Snape scoffed. “I do believe, Mr. Weasley, that celebrating the demise of the Dark Lord four years ago is hardly a cause for arresting the majority of the population for wearing cloaks in public, wouldn’t you agree?”

            “Well, I hardly think that—“ Percy spat out, sputtering to a halt when he met Snape’s eyes. “Nevermind,” he said.

            “ _The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt—these people were obviously collecting for something…yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills._

_Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn’t, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn’t see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.”_

Percy scowled at the book in Neville’s hands, muttering about the Statute of Secrecy.

            “ _Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he’d stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery._

_He’d forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker’s. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn’t know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn’t see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying._

_“The Potters, that’s right, that’s what I heard—“_

_“—yes, their son, Harry—“_

Lily sighed and put a hand over her stomach. James moved his hand to her back and ran his thumb across it. She leaned into him, eyes tearing up. Knowing that Harry lived, and was here in the room with them, didn’t help her.

            _“Mr. Dursley stopped dead.”_

“Wouldn’t it be great if he actually stopped dead?” Fred and George suggested. Harry covered his mouth with the hem of his shirt and coughed violently, though his eyes glinted with mirth.

            _“Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it._

_He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking…no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn’t such an unusual name.”_

“It is among the Wizarding population!” James snapped, glaring at the book, wishing he could meet Mr. Dursley. He would love to have some choice words with the man.

            _“He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn’t even sure his nephew was called Harry. He’d never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold.”_

“I can see it now,” Fred said.

            “The Chosen One, Harvey Potter,” said George.

            Fred leapt up from his seat and ran to shake Harry’s hand. “What a wonderful surprise it is, Mr. Harvey, sir, to finally meet you!”

            George followed his twin’s lead. “Harvey, my dear savior, a pleasure!”

            “I hate to do this to you both,” Harry said, frowning, “but actually, it’s Harold.”

            The three burst into a fit of laughter.

            _“There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley; she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn’t blame her—if he’d had a sister like that…but all the same, those people in cloaks… He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o’clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door._

_“Sorry,” he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn’t seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare, “Don’t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!”_

“See?” Fudge demanded, gesturing to the book. “He’s gone! He’s not back! Lies, it’s all lies!”

            Harry opened his mouth to berate the Minister. Neville hastily continued reading before Harry could say anything. “ _And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.”_

“That couldn’t have been an easy feat,” mused Remus.

            “ _Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. he had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn’t approve of imagination.”_

Harry snorted. “Such an understatement.”

            “What do you mean by that?” Ron asked.

            “If these books really are an accurate account of my life,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, “then I’m sure we’ll find out relatively soon.”

            _“As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw—and it didn’t improve his mood—was the tabby cat he’d spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.”_

“I see you weren’t exaggerating,” Dumbledore said mildly, glancing at Minerva.

            She scoffed. “Of course not.”

            “Wait,” said James. “You mean the cat this…man saw is Minnie?”

            “Yes, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore said.

            _“”Shoo!” said Mr. Dursley loudly. The cat didn’t move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife._

_Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door’s problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word (“Won’t!”). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:_

_“And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.” The newscaster allowed himself a grin.”_

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Hang on, does this Muggle know why the owls have been flying everywhere?”

            “Doesn’t Tonk’s father work for a Muggle news station?” Remus wondered.

            “You’re the one dating her,” Sirius teased. “I think you would know better.”

            “What?” Remus spluttered. “I—we—Tonks and I are not—“

            Sirius grinned. “I think you’re right, though.”

            _“”Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls, tonight, Jim?”_

_“Well, Ted,” said the weatherman, “I don’t know about that, but it’s not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they’ve had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early—it’s not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.”_

_Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters…_

_Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good.”_

“What, the tea?” James asked.

            “ _He’d have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. “Er—Petunia, dear—you haven’t heard from your sister lately, have you?”_

_As he had expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn’t have a sister.”_

Lily frowned at her feet, trying to ignore the stinging in her eyes. James threw an arm around her.

            _“”No,” she said sharply. “Why?”_

_“Funny stuff on the news,” Mr. Dursley mumbled. “Owls…shooting stars…and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today…”_

_“So?” snapped Mrs. Dursley._

_“Well, I just thought…maybe…it was something to do with…you know…her crowd.””_

“Her crowd?” James snapped. “Why, I outta—“

            “James,” Lily said quietly.

            He frowned at her. “Lily….”

            “Leave it,” she said. “Please.”

            _“Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he’d heard the name “Potter.” He decided he didn’t dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, “Their son—he’d be about Dudley’s age now, wouldn’t he?”_

_“I suppose so,” said Mrs. Dursley stiffly._

_“What’s his name again? Howard, isn’t it?”_

_“Harry. Nasty, common name, if you ask me.”_

_“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Dursley, his hear sinking horribly. “Yes, I quite agree.”_

_He didn’t say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something._

_Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did… if it got out that they were related to a pair of—well, he didn’t think he could bear it.”_

“I have some things in mind I bet he couldn’t bear,” James hissed. He was eyeing the book in Neville’s hands with such hatred that Neville was afraid it would burst into flames.

            “ _The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were, involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind…. He couldn’t see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on—he yawned and turned over—it couldn’t affect them…._

_How very wrong he was._

_Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn’t so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.”_

“Jeez, Minnie, you really weren’t messing around, were you?” Sirius sniggered.

            _“A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you’d have thought he’d just popped out of the ground. The cat’s tail twitched and its eyes narrowed._

_Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man’s name was Albus Dumbledore.”_

“Of course it was,” Fred said. “Why wouldn’t this be obvious?”

            “I believe, Mr. Weasley,” said Dumbledore, “that these books were written for a Muggle audience.”

            This only made Fred more confused, but he nodded.

            “ _Albus Dumbledore didn’t seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize that he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, “I should have known.”_

_He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter.”_

“What is a cee-gar-at lighter?” Arthur asked.

            Hermione and Lily both opened their mouths to answer, but Molly shot her husband a look. “Later, Arthur,” she said.

            _“He flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. He clicked it again—the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the Put-Outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn’t be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Put-Outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn’t look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it._

_“Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall.””_

“I believe it’s actually called a Deluminator,” Dumbledore mused. “Now, I wonder why the author would call it a Put-Outer.”

            _“He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a high bun. She looked distinctly ruffled._

“How does one look distinctly ruffled?” George said, shooting a side-eyed glance at Minerva.

            “ _”How did you know it was me?” she asked._

_“My dear Professor, I’ve never seen a cat sit so stiffly.”_

_“You’d be stiff if you’d been sitting on a brick wall all day,” said Professor McGonagall._

_“All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here.”_

_Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily._

_“Oh yes, everyone’s celebrating, all right,” she said impatiently. “You’d think they’d be a bit more careful, but no—even the Muggles have noticed something’s going on. It was on their news.” She jerked her head back at the Dursley’s dark living-room window. “I heard it. Flocks of owls…shooting stars…Well, they’re not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent—I’ll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense.”_

_“You can’t blame them,” said Dumbledore gently. “We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.”_

_“I know that,” said Professor McGonagall irritably. “But that’s no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors.””_

Percy grinned smugly. “My point exactly,” he said.

            “Shut up, Percy!” The Weasley siblings said.

            Percy huffed and crossed his arms, sinking back into the couch he was sitting on.

            _“She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn’t, so she went on. “A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?”_

_“It certainly seems so,” said Dumbledore.”_

“I knew it!” Fudge exclaimed, leaping up from the couch and pointing accusingly at Dumbledore. “I knew it! You’ve been lying all year long. You-Know-Who’s been dead since that Halloween!”

            Amelia Bones stood up and moved in front of Fudge, facing him. “Cornelius,” she said coolly, “sit down. You heard as well as I did what that letter said, so if you want to prevent a second or third war, Minister, you will sit down and let us read these books.”

            “I—“Fudge looked mollified and sank back down into the couch, though he still glared at Dumbledore.

            _“”We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?”_

“What’s a lemon drop?” Arthur asked cautiously.

            “I believe the story explains, Mr. Weasley,” Neville said.

            “Ah, excellent!”

            “ _”A what?”_

_“A lemon drop. They’re a kind of Muggle sweet I’m rather fond of.”_

_“No, thank you,” said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn’t think this was the moment for lemon drops. “As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone—“_

_“My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this ‘You-Know-Who’ nonsense—for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort.” Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. “It all gets so confusing if we keep saying ‘You-Know-Who.’ I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort’s name.”_

_“I know you haven’t,” said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. “But you’re different. Everyone knows you’re the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was ever frightened of.”_

_“You flatter me,” said Dumbledore calmly. “Voldemort had powers I will never have.”_

_“Only because you’re too—well—noble to use them.”_

_“It’s lucky it’s dark. I haven’t blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs.””_

            Remus chuckled.

            “They did look good, Professor,” Hagrid said. Dumbledore nodded at the half-giant.

            _“Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, “The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what everyone’s saying? About why he’s disappeared? About what finally stopped him?”_

_It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever “everyone” was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer._

_“What they’re saying,” she pressed on, “is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric’s Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James are—are—that they’re—dead.””_

            The mood in the room had shifted dramatically over the course of the passage. Molly dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve.

            Lily and James were leaning into each other. They knew this was coming, knew this had to be a part of the story, but hearing it, knowing it was true, irreversible….

            “I think it best if we keep reading,” said Dumbledore, his voice thick. “Mr. Longbottom, if you would?”

            Neville nodded. “ _Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped._

_“Lily and James…I can’t believe it…I didn’t want to believe it…Oh, Albus…”_

_Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “I know…I know…” he said heavily._

_Professor McGonagall’s vice trembled as she went on. “That’s not all. They’re saying he tried to kill the Potter’s son, Harry. But—he couldn’t. He couldn’t kill that little boy. No one knows why, or how, but they’re saying that when he couldn’t kill Harry Potter, Voldemort’s power somehow broke—and that’s why he’s gone.”_

_Dumbledore nodded glumly.”_

Lily’s voice was hoarse with shock. “What?”

            “You’re joking, right?” James asked frantically, looking around the room.

            “I’m afraid not, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said gravely.

            Harry groaned impatiently. “Can we have the whole ‘Harry’s famous’ talk later please? I just want to finish this stupid reading.”

            “I agree with Potter,” Draco spoke up.

            “Harry….” James said.

            Harry gave Sirius a pleading look. Sirius groaned. “Look, Prongs, later, okay?”

            “Fine,” James conceded.

            “ _”It’s—it’s true?” faltered Professor McGonagall. “After all he’s done…all the people he’s killed…he couldn’t kill a little boy? It’s just astounding…of all the things to stop him…but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?”_

_“We can only guess,” said Dumbledore. “We may never know.”_

            Harry snapped his head up and stared at Dumbledore, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I thought you did know?” he asked, tilting his head.

            “I did find out later,” Dumbledore said calmly, nodding at Harry. “But at the, ah, time of these events, I did not know.”

            Harry bit his lip, hesitating.

            In the silence, Neville continued reading. “ _Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, “Hagrid’s late. I suppose it was he who told you I’d be here, by the way?””_

“Even then you couldn’t keep a secret, could you, Hagrid?” Ron laughed.

            “ _”Yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “And I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you’re here, of all places?”_

_“I’ve come to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle. They’re the only family he has left now.””_

“Excuse me?” James demanded. “The only family he has left?”

            “Mr. Potter—“ Dumbledore started.

            “No, don’t Mr. Potter me,” James said. “That family is not the only family Harry has left. What about Remus? What about Sirius? Why didn’t you leave Harry with them?”

            Remus cleared his throat. “James, you know Harry wouldn’t have—ah—been safe with me.”

            “Right,” James said, “but what about Sirius? Why stick Harry with these…people?”

            “Mate,” Sirius said. “I couldn’t take care of Harry, either.”

            “Why not?”

            “I…was in Azkaban…” Sirius said lowly.

            James moved his gaze to Sirius. “What?”

            “I’m not repeating that,” Sirius said. “I’m sure we’ll hear about it soon anyways.”

            James sat, deflated, studying Sirius.

            “ _”You don’t mean—you can’t mean the people who live here?” cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. “Dumbledore—you can’t. I’ve been watching them all day. You couldn’t find two people who are less like us. And they’ve got this son—I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter come and live here!””_

“Thanks, Minnie,” James grumbled, shooting Dumbledore a piercing glare.

            “ _”It’s the best place for him,” said Dumbledore firmly. “His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he’s older. I’ve written them a letter.””_

“A letter?” Lily snapped. “You wrote my sister a letter? A _letter_? You think a letter is the best way to explain this to her? You trusted her to tell my son about magic?”

            “I deemed it the best way of passing information at the time,” Dumbledore said quietly.

            “You deemed it—that’s what you’re going to tell me?” Lily said.

            “Mrs. Potter, I believe it would be best if we got back to reading,” Dumbledore suggested. “And we can have this discussion at a later time.”

            “Fine,” Lily hissed. “But this isn’t over.”

            “ _”A letter?” repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. “Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand him! He’ll be famous—a legend—I wouldn’t be surprised if today was known as Harry Potter day in the future—there will be books written about Harry—every child in our world will know his name!”_

_“Exactly,” said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. “It would be enough to turn any boy’s head. Famous before he can walk and talk! Famous for something he won’t even remember! Cant you see how much better off he’ll be, growing up away from all that until he’s ready to take it?”_

_Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, “Yes—yes, you’re right, of course. But how is the boy getting here, Dumbledore?” She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry underneath it._

_“Hagrid’s bringing him.”_

_“You think it—wise—to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?”_

_“I would trust Hagrid with my life,” said Dumbledore.”_

Hagrid beamed. “Thank you, sir!”

            Dumbledore nodded merrily.

            “ _”I’m not saying his heart isn’t in the right place,” said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, “but you can’t pretend he’s not careless. He does tend to—what was that?”_

_A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky—and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them._

_If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the man sitting astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild—long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets._

_“Hagrid,” said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. “At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?”_

_“Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir,” said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. “Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I’ve got him, sir.””_

“So you’ll let Hagrid borrow your flying motorcycle to bring Harry to his aunt and uncle but you won’t let me drive it, Padfoot?”

            “Sorry, Prongs, but that’s my baby.”

            James chuckled.

            “ _”No problems, were there?”_

_“No, sir—house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”_

_Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning._

_“Is that where—?” whispered Professor McGonagall._

_“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “He’ll have that scar forever.”_

_“Couldn’t you do something about it, Dumbledore?”_

_“Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well—give him here, Hagrid—we’d better get this over with.”_

_Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys’ house._

_“Could I—could I say good-bye to him, sir?” asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog._

_“Shhh!” hissed Professor McGonagall, “you’ll wake the Muggles!”_

_“S-s-sorry,” sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. “But I c-c-can’t stand it—Lily an’ James dead—an’ poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles—“”_

Hagrid scratched his nose in embarrassment.

            “ _”Yes, yes, it’s all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we’ll be found,” Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry’s blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid’s shoulders shook. Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to have gone out.”_

For a beat, the room was deadly quiet. This silence was finally broken by a deadly whisper.

            “You left him on a doorstep in the middle of the night in November?” Remus asked, staring at Dumbledore with an unreadable expression on his face.

            “I believed it was in Harry’s best interest to be left on the doorstep as opposed to being delivered in the arms of a wizard,” Dumbledore replied softly.

            “It was in his best interest to be left on a doorstep when it was almost winter?” Remus’s voice too calm. Every syllable dripped with anger.

            “He could have gotten sick,” Molly interjected, her eyes trained on Dumbledore.

            “Someone could have seen him and taken him before the Dursleys woke up,” Sirius added.

            “The middle of the night!”

            “What were you thinking?”

            Soon, the room was a pandemonium of furious people.

            “Everyone shut up!” Percy yelled over the noise. “Please, let’s just get through this. I don’t want to have to deal with any of this longer than necessary.” He glared at the other occupants of the room, effectively silencing them for the time being.

            “ _”Well,” said Dumbledore finally, “that’s that. We’ve no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations.”_

_“Yeah,” said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, “I’ll be takin’ Sirius his bike back. G’night, Professor McGonagall—Professor Dumbledore, sir.”_

_Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine to life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night._

_“I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall,” said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply._

_Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver Put-Outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.”_

Remus muttered something furious under his breath.

            “ _”Good luck, Harry,” he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone._

_A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…. He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter—the boy who lived!”_

Neville set the book down on his lap and glanced around the room. “Uh,” he said, “that’s the end of the chapter. Should we…keep going, or….”

            “I think it would be great if we kept going, don’t you think, Neville?” Harry asked quickly, feeling Remus growing tense beside him. He cast Ron and Hermione a frantic look.

            “Yeah, that’s a great idea!” Hermione agreed.

            “Yeah, here, Neville, I’ll read next,” Ron said quickly.

            Neville handed Ron the book. “All yours,” he said.

            “Thanks.” Ron cleared his throat. “ _Chapter two, The Vanishing Glass….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 pages of text to copy and paste. @ AO3 please for the love of everything add an upload file function that would be WONDERFUL.
> 
> This is no longer the most serious thing I've written since graduation, though at the time of posting this chapter on FFN it sure was. Now, though, I've published two collections of poetry and I've finally started on my own original novel. Shit.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	3. The Vanishing Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

            Neville handed Ron the book. “All yours,” he said.

            “Thanks.” Ron cleared his throat. “ _Chapter two, The Vanishing Glass….”_

 

Now:

 

            “Wait,” Harry said, interrupting before Ron had a chance to dive into the text. “The vanishing glass?”

            “That’s what it says, mate,” Ron shrugged.

            Harry groaned. “Can we skip this chapter or something?”

            “I’d actually quite like to hear this,” Draco cut in. “If it’s embarrassing to Potter, why not read it?”

            Ron snapped the book shut and made to grab his wand. Hermione pulled his arm back. “Don’t,” she hissed, “just read.”

            Ron glowered and tugged his arm out of her grip. “Harry?” he asked tersely.

            Harry cracked his jaw and sighed. “It’s fine,” he waved his hand. “Just read it.”

            “Okay,” Ron said. He reopened the book and began reading. “ _Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys’ front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets—but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy lived in the house, too._

_Yet Harry Potter was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. His Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.”_

Snape winced.

            “That is an awful way to wake up,” James said.

            Lily elbowed him. “She’s still my sister, James.”

            “ _”Up! Get up! Now!”_

_Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again._

_“Up!” she screeched. Harry heard her walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove.”_

“Harry, mate, do you have super hearing or something?” Fred asked.

            “What?” Harry responded, startled.

            “Well, when we got you from the house, your room was upstairs. How could you hear in the kitchen?” Fred said.

            Harry chuckled, hoping that the nerves he was feeling weren’t obvious. “Like you said. Super hearing. Guess it’s something to do with magic. Keep reading, Ron?” He asked.

            “Alright, mate.” Ron shot him a look. “ _He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he’d had the same dream before._

_His aunt was back outside the door._

_“Are you up yet?” she demanded._

_“Nearly,” said Harry._

_“Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don’t you dare let it burn, I want everything just perfect on Duddy’s birthday.”_

_Harry groaned._

_“What did you say?” his aunt snapped through the door._

_“Nothing, nothing…”_

_Dudley’s birthday—how could he have forgotten? Harry got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them—“_

Ron groaned. “Did you have to mention spiders, mate? Can’t we wait one book?”

            “Sorry?” Harry grinned sheepishly.

            Ron just rolled his eyes. Before he could start reading again, though, Sirius spoke up.

            “What do you mean?”

            “What?” Ron asked.

            “Why would we be waiting one book for spiders?” Sirius demanded.

            “Uh…” Ron said. “Harry, you want to take this one?”

            “Harry?” Sirius turned to the boy sitting next to him.

            Harry swallowed. “Well—you’ll just have to wait and see.”

            Sirius groaned.

            “ _—put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.”_

A silence filled the room, so loud that Harry’s ears started buzzing in anticipation of what was about to happen. He glanced around the room, slowly leaning back into the couch cushion, wishing he could disappear.

            Finally, the silence in the room was broken by a cacophony of questions and accusations.

            “A cupboard?”

            “I told you! I warned you about those Muggles, Albus, they’re awful, horrid people….”

            “I would love to get my hands on that woman. How dare she? A cupboard?”

            “Isn’t that child abuse?”

            “You know how Tuney feels about magic! Why would you leave him there?”

            During all of this, Harry had sunk lower and lower into the couch, until only his forehead was visible over his knees.

            Sirius took notice and ceased berating Dumbledore. “Harry,” he said quietly, “why didn’t you tell anyone?”

            “It wasn’t really that big of a deal,” Harry responded lowly.

            “Not a big deal?” Sirius stared at his godson, eyes widening. “Harry, they made you sleep in a cupboard.”

            Harry scrunched up his nose. “Really, it wasn’t that bad. Not compared to, well,” Harry stopped talking for a brief second, weighing the consequences of what he was about to say. “Not compared to everything else, I guess.”

            “Everything else?” Remus chimed in. “What is everything else?”

            “I’m sure the book will cover it,” Harry said darkly, slowly sitting back up.

            Sirius scowled and opened his mouth.

            “Ron, can you keep reading?” Harry asked loudly, interrupting the angry questions that were still being thrown at Dumbledore.

            Ron stared at Harry. “Mate, are you sure that—“

            “Just read. Please,” Harry said.

            The room was finally quiet for a period of time again. In this silence, Draco glanced over at Harry, his eyes narrowed in thought.

            Finally, Ron started reading again, his voice shaking. “ _When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.”_

“What’s a racing bike?” Arthur interrupted.

            “Later, Arthur,” Molly snapped, still glowering at the book in Ron’s hands.

            “ _Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise—unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was Harry—“_

An icy quiet took hold in the room. Sirius wrapped his hand around Harry’s and gripped it tightly.

            “ _—but he couldn’t often catch him. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast._

_Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harry had always been small and skinny for his age. He looked even smaller and skinnier than he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley’s, and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Harry had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. He wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had punched him on the nose.”_

Lily huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes glinted with fury.

            “ _The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.”_

“You liked your scar?” Ron asked, interrupting himself. “I thought you hated it.”

            “I liked it before I realized why I had it,” Harry said. “And before I knew that it made me famous for not dying as a baby,” he added, shaking his head.

            Snape raised an eyebrow at this, but showed no other outward sign of what he was thinking. Was it possible that he had been wrong about the Potter boy?

            “ _He had had it as long as he could remember, and the first question he could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he had gotten it._

_“In the car crash when your parents died,” she had said.”_

“A car crash?” Remus hissed. “Is that what they told you?”

            Harry nodded.

            “ _”And don’t ask questions.”_

_Don’t ask questions—that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys._

_Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon._

_“Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting._

_About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way—all over the place._

_Harry was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel—Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.”_

Fred snorted. “You aren’t far off from the truth there,” he said, grinning at Harry.

            “ _Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell._

_“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.”_

“Merlin,” scoffed Draco, “that kid is one spoiled brat.”

            “And you’re not?” Ron retorted.

            “Of course not,” Draco said primly, “I certainly don’t get upset about getting thirty-six presents on my birthday.”

            Minerva cleared her throat. Draco and Ron flushed, staring at each other angrily.

            “Mr. Weasley, if you would,” Minerva said, “continue reading.”

            “ _”Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mommy and Daddy.”_

_“Alright, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down his bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over._

_Aunt Petunia obviously scented danger, too, because she said quickly, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right?”_

_Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty… thirty…”_

_“Thirty-nine, sweetums,” said Aunt Petunia._

_“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “Alright then.”_

_Uncle Vernon chuckled._

_“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ‘Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair._

_At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.”_

“What—“ Arthur started to ask. The question died in his throat when he noticed Molly glaring at him.

            “ _He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried._

_“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broken her leg. She can’t take him.” She jerked her head in Harry’s direction._

_Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, but Harry’s heart gave a leap. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made him look at photographs of all the cats she’d ever owned._

_“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he’d planned this. Harry knew he ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn’t easy when he reminded himself it would be a whole year before he had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again._

_“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested._

_“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy.”_

_The Dursleys often spoke about Harry like this, as though he wasn’t there—or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn’t understand them, like a slug.”_

Sirius was beginning to look downright murderous.

            “ _”What about what’s-her-name, your friend—Yvonne?”_

_“On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia._

_“You could just leave me here,” Harry put in hopefully (he’d be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley’s computer)._

_Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon._

_“And come back and find the house in ruins?” she snarled.”_

“He won’t blow up the house!” snapped Lily, glaring at the book, imagining it had become her sister’s face.

            Ron sniggered. “ _”I won’t blow up the house,” said Harry, but they weren’t listening._

_“I suppose we could take him to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “…and leave him in the car…”_

“They better not have,” Remus said.

            “They didn’t that time,” Harry responded quietly.

            Remus looked at Harry, his expression pained.

            “ _”That car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone….”_

_Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t really crying—it had been years since he’d really cried—but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted._

_“Dinky Duddydums—“_

George laughed. “Dinky Duddydums?” he asked, his eyes glittering with mirth.

            Harry nodded, grinning.

            “ _—don’t cry, Mummy won’t let him spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him._

_“I…don’t…want…him…t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. “He always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother’s arms._

_Just then, the doorbell rang—“Oh, good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically—and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them.”_

“Oh, he sounds like a charmer, this one,” James muttered.

            “ _Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once._

_Half an hour later, harry, who couldn’t believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside._

_“I’m warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry’s, “I’m warning you now, boy—any funny business, anything at all—and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.”_

Draco forgot, for a moment, who he was with. “They didn’t!” he gasped, moving his shocked gaze from the book to Harry.

            Harry shrugged uncomfortably. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said, echoing what he’d told Sirius earlier.

            Draco shook his head in wonder.

            “ _”I’m not going to do anything,” said Harry, “honestly…”_

_But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did._

_The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make them happen.”_

_Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, he had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.”_

“They punished you for accidental magic?” Molly asked, a hand over her heart.

            “Yes,” Harry said, hoping that that would be the end of the conversation. Sirius’s grip on his hand grew tighter.

            “ _Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash, and to his great relief, Harry wasn’t punished._

_On the other hand, he’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry’s surprise as anyone else’s, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from Harry’s headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.”_

“You flew?” Lily asked, a grin spreading across her face.

            “Uh, I suppose so,” Harry said, smiling sheepishly at his mother.

            Lily beamed at him. “Oh, that’s brilliant! I did the same thing when I was that age!” she said.

            Harry’s heart felt like it had skipped a beat. “R-really?” he asked, staring at his mom in wonder.

            Lily nodded. “I’ll tell you about it later?”

            “I’d love that,” Harry said.

            “ _But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn’t school, his cupboard, or Mrs. Figg’s cabbage-smelling living room._

_While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles._

_“…roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a motorcycle overtook them._

_“I had a dream about a motorcycle,” said Harry, remembering suddenly. “It was flying.”_

_Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: “MOTORCYCLES DON’T FLY!”_

Hermione jumped and smacked Ron on the arm. “Ronald!” she cried, glaring at him.

            “Sorry,” Ron said through laughter, “that’s the way it’s written in the book. I was just reading it the way it’s supposed to be read.”

            Hermione peered over at the text. When she saw that the words had indeed been written to be shouted, she huffed and crossed her arms. “Just don’t do that again,” she said.

            “ _Dudley and Piers sniggered._

_“I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream.”_

_But he wished he hadn’t said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking questions, it was his talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn’t, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon—they seemed to think he might get dangerous ideas._

_It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams and the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn’t bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn’t blond.”_

Fred and George laughed.

            “ _Harry had the best morning he’d had in a long time. He was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn’t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another and Harry was allowed to finish the first.”_

Ron’s stomach growled. He flushed.

            Molly smiled and said, “How about after this chapter we take a break and have lunch?”

            Her question was met with nods and affirmative grunts.

_Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last._

_After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see the huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can—but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.”_

“Harry,” Hermione said suddenly, “didn’t you say in second year that you set a—“

            “Hermione, you’re going to spoil the best bit of this chapter,” Harry interrupted.

            She covered her mouth to hide her grin.

            _“Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils._

_“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge._

_“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on._

_“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away._

_Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself—no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least he got to visit the rest of the house._

_The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harry’s._

_It winked._

_Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. He looked back at the snake and winked, too._

_The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harry a look that said quite plainly:_

_“I get that all the time.”_

_“I know,” Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn’t sure the snake could hear him. “It must be really annoying.”_

_The snake nodded vigorously.”_

“Are you talking to the snake?” Remus asked shrewdly, glancing at Harry.

            Harry nodded. “Don’t worry, I’m sure the second book will go into great detail about it.”

            “What do you mean?” Remus said.

            “You’ll see,” Harry replied, grimacing.

            Remus sighed. “Naturally.”

            “ _”Where do you come from, anyway?” Harry asked._

_The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it._

_Boa Constrictor, Brazil._

_“Was it nice there?”_

_The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. “Oh, I see—so you’ve never been to Brazil?”_

_As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harry made both of them jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”_

“Ron!” Hermione snapped.

            Ron just shrugged his shoulders and grinned.

            “ _Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could._

_“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened—one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror._

_Harry sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished.”_

Sirius’s mouth dropped open.

            “That…is some very impressive accidental magic, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said, eyeing her Gryffindor curiously.

            “ _The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits._

_As the snake slid swiftly past him, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come….Thanksss, amigo.”_

_The keeper of the reptile house was in shock._

_“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”_

_The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as Harry had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calmed down enough to say, “Harry was talking to it, weren’t you, Harry?”_

_Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go—cupboard—stay—no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.”_

Remus hissed and turned to face Harry. Before he could say anything, Harry spoke up. “Can we do this after the chapter?” he asked tiredly. “I’d really just like to get this over with.”

            “Fine,” Remus sighed, “but I am going to hold you to that.”

            “ _Harry lay in his dark cupboard much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn’t know what time it was and he couldn’t be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn’t risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food._

_He’d lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as he could remember, ever since he’d been a baby and his parents had died in that car crash. He couldn’t remember being in the car when his parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained his memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.”_

Regulus looked like he was going to be ill. “That’s the killing curse,” he said. “You can remember that?”

            “I can remember more than that now,” Harry said.

            Regulus waited a beat for Harry to elaborate. When he didn’t, Regulus said, “Okay, no need to be so cryptic, Potter.”

            “ _This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn’t imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn’t remember his parents at all. His aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course he was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.”_

Lily frowned. She knew Petunia didn’t like her, but this was a whole new level for her sister.

            “ _When he had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take him away—“_

Sirius winced. “Sorry, kid,” he whispered.

            “It’s fine,” Harry whispered back, squeezing Sirius’s hand. “I’ve got you now, haven’t I?”

            “ _—but it had never happened; the Dursleys were his only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to him once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at him once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry tried to get a closer look._

_At school, Harry had no one. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.”_

Harry sighed and reached up under his glasses to rub his eyes.

            “That’s the end of the chapter,” Ron said awkwardly.

            Molly jumped up. “Perfect! Hermione, Ginny, how about you come help me prepare something for lunch?”

            The two girls in question hastily joined Molly and left for the kitchen.

            “Harry,” Remus said, “end of the chapter. Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao going back through the author's notes from the original documents is like a time capsule. When I originally wrote this chapter, I'd just discovered the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack. Well, if ya look at my works, you'll see for sure one work inspired by DEH. Whoops.
> 
> At that point, my grandfather (who I know I later sort of complained about because his dementia made life difficult) was visiting. Well. Since the time you last heard from me, my grandfather passed. It's been almost a month now since that (holy shit what the fuck time isn't real folks) and so yeah, shit's been rough.
> 
> I'd like to say that the next chapter, a filler chapter, has been edited to be a proper filler chapter, but I'm not doing that with ANY of the filler chapters until I finish the rest of the series.
> 
> So glad people are finding this again on here!
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	4. Dementors and the Dursleys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

            “Harry,” Remus said, “end of the chapter. Let’s talk.”

 

Now:

 

            Harry sucked in a breath and nodded. “Not here, though?” he asked, glancing around the room.

            “Fine, outside, then,” Remus said. He stood and walked out of the room, expecting Harry to follow.

            Harry groaned. “Sirius,” he hissed, “come with me? I don’t want to talk to Remus alone.”

            Sirius chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the big bad wolf.”

            “Please, Sirius?”

            “Alright, then, kid, let’s go.”

            Harry beamed at his godfather. The two left the room and out to the backyard, where Remus was leaning against the house waiting.

            “So….” Harry started out. “W-what exactly do you want to talk about?”

            “You slept in a cupboard, Harry,” Remus said sharply. “What do you think I want to talk about?”

            “Sleeping in a cupboard really wasn’t that big of a deal,” Harry said, waving his hand, as if he could brush away the uncomfortable air around him. “At least they gave me a place to sleep, you know? They could have turned me away, they could have drowned me like Aunt Marge kept suggesting—“

            “What?” Sirius stared at Harry, his mouth hanging open.

            Harry lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, pinching his eyes shut. “Nothing, Padfoot, forget it.”

            “I’m not just going to forget this, Harry,” Sirius said, glancing over at Remus, who had adopted a furious expression. “This is a very serious thing that we—the three of us—have to deal with.”

            “I’ve dealt with it just fine for the past fourteen years.” Harry just resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

            “And what exactly have you been dealing with for the past fourteen years?” Remus asked.

            “Ah—“ Harry bit his lip and peeled off a piece of dry skin.

            “That’s a fantastic question.” Sirius crossed his arms and sat on the ledge of the garden wall.

            “I don’t know exactly what you mean?” Harry tried.

            “Wrong answer,” Sirius said.

            “Harry,” Remus said, his head tilted to look at the sky, “Dementors can’t leave bruises.”

            Harry’s hands flew to his throat, his thoughts going back to the night on the Black Lake in his third year. Dementors did not, in fact, leave bruises. If they did, Madam Pomfrey had healed that right up. _Regardless,_ Harry thought, _the Dementor from that night in Surrey didn’t have the opportunity to grab me._

“Harry?” Remus asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you going to tell us how you got the bruises on your neck that night?” Both he and Sirius watched Harry expectantly.

            Harry sighed through his nose and stared just beyond Remus’s left shoulder, eyeing the shrubbery, debating how long he could put off the answer that everyone knew was coming.

            “We don’t have forever, Harry,” Remus said quietly.

            “I know.” Harry continued staring hard at the bushes, wondering if he could make Dobby appear in them by sheer force of will, and if Dobby would be able to Apperate the two of them back to Hogwarts, or just out of whatever this place was.

            Sirius sighed. “Harry….”

            “Alright, alright,” Harry grumbled, still not tearing his gaze away from the bushes. “Earlier that day, when the Dementors… you know?”

            Sirius and Remus nodded expectantly.

            “Earlier that day, I’d been outside in the garden, listening to the news. There was a—“

            “Why would you be listening to the news outside?” Remus interrupted.

            “You know what, I’m sure this’ll come up in the books when we get to my fifth year,” Harry said, taking a step backwards to the house. “So why don’t we just wait?” His voice was tight with desperation.

            “I don’t think so,” Remus said. “Why would you be outside? Why not sit inside and listen to the news?”

            “Uncle Vernon wasn’t…pleased…that I was listening to the news every evening,” Harry bit out, each word falling sharply to rest in the cool evening air.

            “And?”

            “And there was this noise, like a house-elf Disapperating, and I stood up to figure out what it was. But,” Harry sighed, “I hit my head on the windowsill, and Uncle Vernon found out that I was there. He was not happy about the disturbance, or me lurking in the flowerbeds, and he—well—he wrapped his hands around my neck. He let go, though,” he added quickly, seeing the look on Sirius’s face. “Really, it wasn’t that big of a deal, none of it was.”

            Remus blew out a breath. “Harry…” he started, quite unsure of where to take the conversation, afraid in equal measure of further enraging Sirius and of pushing Harry.

            “I promise,” Harry said shortly, “nothing happened that I couldn’t handle.”

            Sirius raised an eyebrow.

            “Except the time I blew up Aunt Marge,” Harry amended, narrowing his eyes at Sirius.

            “Whether or not you could handle it doesn’t excuse what they did, Harry,” Sirius said. “You were cooking at the age of ten and sleeping in a cupboard.”

            “It wasn’t—“

            “That big a deal, yes, you keep saying that, but Harry…” Remus sucked in a breath. “Harry, did your aunt and uncle ever hit you?”

            “What?” The sharp tone of Harry’s voice cut across the momentary silence that had fallen in the garden. “N-no,” he stuttered. “Absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

            “It’s not that big of a leap, Harry.” Remus’s tone was gentle. “We just found out from the book that your uncle locked you in your…cupboard…and didn’t feed you.”

            “I snuck into the kitchen at night when that happened—“ Harry protested.

            “So it happened more than once?” Sirius demanded.

            Harry sighed. “Yes.”

            Sirius ran a hand over his face, his expression weary. “Harry,” he said, “that’s not normal, in this world or the Muggle world.”

            “I know that.” Harry’s expression darkened. “I promise, though, that they never once hit me, or tried to drown me like Aunt Marge was so keen on. The worst bits of it were when Aunt Marge visited, anyways.”

            “What—?”

            “I’m sure you’ll hear all about it in the third book,” Harry said. “Can we go inside now? Mrs. Weasley should have food ready.”

            At the mention of food, Sirius’s stomach rumbled.

            “Fine,” Remus conceded, “but Harry, you have to understand, what your aunt and uncle did to you wasn’t okay.”

            “And if anything else comes up that you haven’t told us right now, we’re going to be talking again, Harry,” Sirius added.

            Harry nodded quickly. “Yes, yes alright,” he agreed. “Are we done?”

            “For now,” Remus said.

            Harry looked elated for the first time since arriving at the house. He turned around and tore back inside, eager to partake in the feast Mrs. Weasley had no doubt prepared while he had been outside.

            “He’s hiding something,” Sirius said wearily.

            Remus rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure we’ll find out what it is,” he said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll find it out from Harry.”

            “No,” Sirius agreed, “we’ll probably hear it from the books. Although…we could ask Ron or Hermione if they know what Harry won’t tell us.”

            “Only if he told them. I get the feeling that Harry hasn’t mentioned much of his aunt and uncle to anyone.”

            “You’re probably right,” Sirius said. “Let’s get inside.”

 

* * *

 

            Harry entered what he assumed was the dining space and moved to sit down next to Ron. He stopped when he saw Hermione shaking her head. She motioned down the table a ways, and Harry saw his parents on the other side of the room. He swallowed roughly and made his way over to them.

            He thought wildly on the brief yet endless walk over to his parents about how he would say something witty, something truly hilarious, inspiring, to them, but when he got to them, all that came out of his mouth was, “Ahhh…hey how’s it going?” He said this so quickly that he may have not said anything at all.

            James ceased speaking to Lily mid-sentence and appraised his son with a cool expression.

            Harry backpedaled, panicking. “I mean, uh, sorry, I just wanted—I’m just going to—I’ll just go sit down with my friends?”

            James continued staring at Harry. Lily looked back and forth between the two, her lips pressed together tightly. Harry took a step back, and James finally cracked a smile.

            “Sorry, kid,” he said, laughing, “old habits die hard.”

            Harry bit his lip. “Yeah, I guess you’d know,” he said.

            James froze.

            “What?” Lily said, her voice trembling with barely restrained laughter.

            “Oh my God, I didn’t mean it like that, I just—“ Harry spoke quickly.

            “You have your mother’s sense of humor,” James muttered, sounding disappointed.

            “Sorry?” Harry tried, though the apology was ruined by the grin he was sporting.

            James grinned, too, and shifted over a chair. He motioned for Harry to sit in his vacated spot.

            “So, Harry,” Lily began tentatively. “What—ah—what kind of things are you into?”

            Harry gave her a blank look. “What?”

            “What kind of things do you, you know, enjoy doing?”

            “I don’t understand?” Harry said.

            “Well, do you ski?” Lily asked. “Or do you not like anything outdoors? Do you read for fun? What do you do for fun?”

            Harry nodded slowly, understanding growing right alongside dread in the pit of his stomach. “I save the Wizarding world from destruction,” he said dryly, grabbing a sandwich from the middle of the table.

            Lily tilted her head and watched him take a bite. “You’re joking, right?”

            “Nope,” Harry said around a mouthful of bread.

            “You don’t do anything for fun?” James chimed in, looking mildly concerned.

            Harry considered for a moment. “Well, I did play Quidditch….”

            “You did play?” James looked elated as he said this, and Lily groaned.

            “Yeah,” Harry said, brightening, “I did. At least, I did until Umbridge banned me for life.”

            “What?” James asked, paling dramatically.

            Harry nodded sagely. “I punched Malfoy and got banned for life,” he said, “but it was worth it.”

            “And why did you punch a classmate?” Lily demanded.

            Harry opened his mouth to reply, and in that moment really looked in his mother’s eyes for the first time. They were in fact, not exactly the same color as his, but a shade or two lighter, and they contained a spark of fury that Harry had seen only in one other person before. The fury in Lily’s eyes was such a familiar look, and yet such a strange one. It stole the words from Harry before they left his throat and replaced them with a rough lump that he struggled to swallow around. He’d seen this same look on Molly Weasley’s face too often to count, directed at her sons, and on occasion he had longed for the woman he had come to consider a mother to turn that look on him, so he could understand what it was like to disappoint a parent, and now here was his mother in the flesh, giving him the look…. Harry found himself blinking back tears and scoffed at himself, though he could not help the smile that tugged at his lips. His own flesh and blood mother was telling him off for fighting.

            “Well?” Lily said.

            _Such a childish thing to be happy about,_ Harry thought, marveling at the way the piercing tone of the question both chilled him to the core for fright and warmed his heart with a swelling of love. He grinned and said, “Don’t worry about it, I’m sure it will come up.”

            Lily harrumphed, but at a look from James, let it rest.

 

            Down the table, Sirius and Remus had settled in for dinner with the rest of the group, and were watching the Potters interact.

            “Strange to think that Lily’s five months pregnant with Harry, and yet he’s sitting right next to her, isn’t it?” Sirius muttered in Remus’s ear.

            Remus snorted into his cup. “That’s one word for it.”

            “I still can’t believe they’re here.”

            “You think any of us can?” Remus nodded his head in turn at Snape, Dumbledore, McGonagall, the Weasleys, and Harry.

            “Fair point.”

            “That’s why I made it.”

            Remus smirked. “I’m just saying.”

            “I see you two haven’t changed a bit,” Regulus interjected, leaning slightly onto the table to look past his brother at Remus.

            Sirius rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start, Reggie.”

            Regulus snickered. “I don’t think you will ever change, brother.”

            “He has a point,” Remus agreed.

            “Shut up, Moony,” Sirius advised.

 

            After much chatter over the dinner Molly had prepared, people slowly began making their way back into the reading room. Ron was one of the last people to enter, bringing a plate stacked with sandwiches with him. When he sat, Hermione elbowed him.

            “What?” he said, clutching the plate.

            “Do you ever stop eating, Ronald?” Hermione chided.

            “Of course he doesn’t,” Harry said.

            Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up the book. “Is everyone ready? _Chapter three, The Letters from No One…._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's hilarious seeing how absolutely blown away I was by new music because now not only have I seen DEH, but at the time of this chapter, I was VERY into the new Lightning Thief musical and have since SEEN IT AND IT'S SO GOOD, YOU GUYS, HOLY SHIT.
> 
> I'm also definitely doing the "I open at the close" joke because Neville is still gonna be the first and last to read. Oh, there are gonna be so many good jokes I'm so excited.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	5. The Letters from No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

            Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up the book. “Is everyone ready? _Chapter three, The Letters from No One….”_

Now:

            “ _The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches._

_Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dudley, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.”_

            “Right, that’s how you choose who leads a gang,” Draco quipped, eyes narrowing at the book. “It should be about the person who holds the most power.”

            “Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry snapped immediately, before he’d fully processed the statement. “…Actually, you aren’t exactly wrong.”

            _“The rest if them were all quite happy to join in Dudley’s favorite sport: Harry Hunting._

_This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in his life, he wouldn’t be with Dudley.”_

Hermione paused her reading and said, “That actually raises a question I’ve had for a while now. Muggleborns and half bloods who grow up going to Muggle schools before Hogwarts miss out on the rest of the education they have, and by the time we’re let out, the Muggle schools are also out, so there’s little to no chance to study things like science and history! How are we supposed to continue that education? And how do half bloods raised like pure bloods have access to that same kind of education?”

            “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Harry and Lily said in unison.

            Minerva opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again. She pursed her lips, her forehead creased in thought. “That’s a fantastic question, Ms. Granger. However, I’m afraid I can’t answer it.”

            Hermione frowned for a moment and then continued reading, putting the question aside for later. “ _Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny._

_“They stuff people’s heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall,” he told Harry. “Want to come upstairs and practice?”_

_“No, thanks,” said Harry. “The poor toilet’s never had anything as horrible as your head down it—it might be sick.” Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he’d said.”_

James roared with laughter.

            “Brilliant, Harry,” said George.

            “We’ll make a prankster out of you, you’ll see,” Fred promised, grinning devilishly at Harry.

            _“One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she’d had it for several years._

_That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family on his brand-new uniform. Smeltings’ boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later in life._

_As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn’t believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh.”_

Harry had no such reservations now, as he leaned back into the couch and laughed until his cheeks ached. “Funniest thing that had happened to me back then,” he said.

            “ _There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water._

_“What’s this?” he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question._

_“Your new school uniform,” she said._

_Harry looked in the bowl again._

_“Oh,” he said, “I didn’t realize it had to be so wet.”_

_“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Aunt Petunia. “I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old things gray for you. It’ll look just like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.”_

_Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High—like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably._

_Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry’s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table._

_They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat._

_“Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.”_

Sirius gasped loudly and clawed at the skin over his heart, his eyes going wide. The sound startled Hermione out of reading.

            “Is he alright?” she asked, eyeing Sirius as though she was trying to decide whether or not to worry.

            “He’s fine,” James and Remus said.

            “He’s just being a drama queen.” Lily frowned at Sirius.

            “I think the shock of Dursley being nice to Harry is giving me a heart attack!” Sirius forced each word out with a sharp exhale of breath.

            “Shut up, Sirius,” Harry groaned.

            “ _Make Harry get it.”_

“Oh, nevermind.” Sirius pouted.

            _“Get the mail, Harry.”_

            This time, Harry was the one who gasped.

            “What now?” Hermione demanded.

            “He used my name!” Harry said, his jaw hanging open in shock.

            “And that’s an uncommon occurrence?” Lily asked.

            Harry nodded.

            _“Make Dudley get it.”_

_“Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley.”_

_Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and—a letter for Harry._

_Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would?”_

“Ginny would,” Ron said, snickering.

            Ginny blushed brightly and reached behind Hermione to smack Ron.

            “Ouch!” he complained, glaring at his sister. She stuck her tongue out at him.

            “I did,” Remus said quietly, staring at Dumbledore. “Why didn’t Harry ever get the letters people sent to him?”

            “I arranged for all mail sent to Harry before he turned eleven to be intercepted by Gringotts, and to be sent to him on the occasion of his eleventh birthday,” Dumbledore said.

            “What?” Harry stared at the Headmaster. “I never got any letters on my eleventh birthday.”

            Dumbledore laced his hands together and addressed Harry without looking at him. “I will look into it.”

            “Yeah, that would be nice,” Remus snapped. “It would be wonderful if Harry could read the letters I sent to him for years.”

            Sensing a fight, Hermione hastily began reading. “ _He had no friends, no other relatives—he didn’t belong to the library, so he’d never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet there it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:_

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs_

_4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

_The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp._

_Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H._

_“Hurry up, boy!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke.”_

            “Wasn’t that funny,” Sirius muttered.

            _“Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope._

_Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard._

_“Marge’s ill,” he informed Aunt Petunia. “Ate a funny whelk…”_

_“Dad!” said Dudley suddenly. “Dad, Harry’s got something!”_

_Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.”_

“Why do we still use parchment?” Hermione asked suddenly, interrupting herself. “And quills and ink?”

            “Yeah,” Harry agreed, remembering the brilliance of using a mechanical pencil in classes, “Muggles have pencils and pens that would be so much easier to use than quills, and it would be less to carry around for classes.”

            “The use of parchment and quills is an old tradition in the Wizarding world, Ms. Granger,” Minerva said.

            “And tradition is a reason to not allow things that would be more practical to be used?” Hermione said.

            “I think I might start using pens,” Harry mused. “It really would be easier.”

            Hermione nodded. “Yeah, letting students use—“

            “Ms. Granger, do us all a favor and keep reading so we can get these blasted books over with,” Snape finally hissed, his face twisted with impatience.

            “Right,” Hermione squeaked. “ _That’s mine!” said Harry, trying to snatch it back._

_“Who’d be writing to you?” sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge._

_“P-P-Petunia!” he gasped._

_Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint.”_

“Drama queen,” Lily murmured.

            _“She clutched her throat and made a choking noise._

_“Vernon! Oh my goodness—Vernon!”_

_They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn’t used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick._

_“I want to read that letter,” he said loudly._

_“I want to read it,” said Harry furiously, “as it’s mine.”_

_“Get out, both of you,” croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope._

_Harry didn’t move._

_“I WANT MY LETTER!” he shouted.”_

“Blimey, Hermione,” Ron hissed, rubbing his ears and glaring at her.

            “What?” she said, grinning. “I’m just reading the book.”

            Ginny peered over Hermione’s arm at the text. “She’s right,” she said, smirking. “The words are all capitalized. She had to scream them, for authenticity.”

            “Sure,” Ron grumbled.

            _“Let me see it!” demanded Dudley._

_“OUT!” roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door shut behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor._

_“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at the address—how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don’t think they’re watching the house?”_

_“Watching—spying—might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon wildly._

_“But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don’t want—“_

_Harry could see Uncle Vernon’s shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen._

_“No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer….Yes, that’s best….we won’t do anything….”_

_“But—“_

_“I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took him in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”_

“Stamp out that dangerous nonsense?” Snape said furiously, the venom in his words chilling the room. “Albus, you know how dangerous that is.”

            “Indeed, Severus,” Dumbledore said gravely.

            “That’s all you’re going to say?” Snape hissed.

            “For now.”

            _“That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard._

_“Where’s my letter/” said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. “Who’s writing to me?”_

_“No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,” said Uncle Vernon shortly. “I have burned it.”_

_“It was not a mistake,” said Harry angrily, “it had my cupboard on it.”_

_“SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful._

_“Er—yes, Harry—about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking…you’re really getting a bit big for it…we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.”_

“Second bedroom?” The icy calm tone of the question had James, Ron, and Hermione flinching out of habit. “My sister’s son had a second bedroom, and she made my son sleep in a BROOM CUPBOARD? I know Tuney despises me, but that is no reason to take it out on my son! This is ridiculous, and she knows it! I would love to get my hands on—LET GO OF ME, JAMES!” Lily snapped, shaking off her husband, who was gripping her wrist tightly and trying to tug her back onto the couch.

            “Lils,” James said quietly, “sit down.”

            Lily glared at him.

            “Seriously, Lils, sit down. It’s just a book. There’s nothing you can do about it right now.”

            “Don’t tell me what I already know,” she said fiercely. “I know it’s a book, but it’s a book about my son.”

            “Mum,” Harry said. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

            The anger in Lily’s eyes vanished as she turned to face her son. “Harry—“

            “Hermione, read, please,” Harry interrupted, casting a desperate glance at his friend.

            _“Why?” asked Harry._

_“Don’t ask questions!” snapped his uncle. “Take this stuff upstairs, now.”_

_The Dursleys’ house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit into his first bedroom.”_

Within seconds, Lily went from looking concerned for Harry to downright murderous.

            _“It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor’s dog; in the corner was Dudley’s first-ever television set, which he’d put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they’d never been touched._

_From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, “I don’t want him in there…I need that room…make him get out….”_

_Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he’d have given anything to be up here. Today he’d rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it._

_Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He’d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn’t have his room back. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he’d opened the letter in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly._

_When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, “There’s another one! ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive—“_

“Why,” said Sirius, his voice tight, “did the address change? Did you know?” This was directed at Dumbledore.

            “No,” Dumbledore said. “I did not know. The letters are addressed by magic, and we do not check where they are going. We only send them.”

            “I do believe we should start checking the letters more thoroughly before we send them, Albus,” Minerva said.

            Dumbledore nodded.

            _“With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, harry right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind.”_

Ron laughed sharply. “Practicing, are you?”

            “Shut it,” Harry retorted, grinning.

            “Practicing for what?” Remus questioned.

            “You’ll see.”

            Remus groaned.

            _“After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry’s letter clutched in his hand._

_“Go to your cupboard—I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harry. “Dudley—go—just go.”_

_Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn’t received his first letter. Surely that meant they’d try again? And this time he’d make sure they didn’t fail. He had a plan.”_

“Oh no,” Hermione said.

            “Oi, what is that supposed to mean?”

            “Well, Harry, first year…your plans weren’t…that…great.”

            Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

            _“The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn’t wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights._

_He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first.”_

“Oh. That’s actually a decent plan, Harry.”

            “Thanks.”

            _“His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door—_

_“AAAAARRRGH!”_

Ginny picked up the pillow behind her and smacked Hermione with it. “Stop doing that!”

            Hermione continued reading, a satisfied grin on her face. “ _Harry leapt into the air; he’d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat—something alive!_

_Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle’s face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn’t do exactly what he’d been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go and make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon’s lap. Harry could see three letters addressed in green ink._

_“I want—“ he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes._

_Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot._

_“See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”_

_“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”_

_“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.”_

“Well thank Merlin for that,” Draco and Fred sneered.

            “I’d worry more if we did think like them,” George said primly, examining the nails on his right hand.

            _“On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn’t go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom._

_Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he gout out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” as he worked, and jumped at small noises._

_On Sunday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor._

_“Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harry in amazement.”_

“Only the entire Wizarding world,” Sirius whispered in Harry’s ear.

            “Not any more, they don’t,” he whispered back.

            _“On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy._

_“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today—“_

_Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one—_

_“Out! OUT!”_

_Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor._

_“That does it,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We’re going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!”_

_He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat, his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag._

_They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn’t dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while._

_“Shake ‘em off…shake ‘em off,” he would mutter whenever he did this.”_

“The man’s gone insane,” Regulus said airily.

            Fudge, however, was seething. “There is a Statute of Secrecy for a reason, Dumbledore!”

            “Yes, however, Petunia was already very much aware of the Wizarding world, so this would not have been a breach, would it have, Cornelius?”

            Fudge opened and closed his mouth several times, but was unable to form a reply.

            _“They didn’t stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He’d never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he’d missed five television programs he’d wanted to see, and he’d never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.”_

“Alien?” Arthur said eagerly. “What’s an alien?”

            “They’re…creatures often depicted as tiny green men,” Harry said. “They’re supposed to be mysterious and scary, but often times they’re just weird.”

            “Not the Xenomorphs,” Hermione countered. “Those are pretty terrifying. Why would an alien need three jaws? Not to mention,” she shuddered, “they’re created because a face-hugger latches onto you, shoves a tentacle down your throat, and implants an alien life form in your stomach, which bursts out of your chest sometimes days later and kills you!”

            Harry nodded furiously. “I think the tagline is what freaked me out the most.”

            “In space, no one can hear you scream,” Hermione said, shaking her head to dispel the feeling of unease settling over her.

            “What in the name of Merlin’s—“

            “Ronald!” Molly gasped.

            “Sorry, Mum. What the bloody hell are you to going on about?” He looked from Harry to Hermione, voicing what the rest of the occupants of the room were wondering.

            “Oh, Alien!” Harry said. “It’s a movie.”

            “Not just any movie,” Hermione added. “It’s a horror movie.”

            “What’s so scary about tiny green men?”

            “The Xenomorph isn’t a tiny green man,” Harry grimaced.

            “The Xenomorph is a terrifying creature from space,” Hermione said.

            Ron frowned. “There are creatures in space?”

            “Well, no one knows for sure, but there’s lots of speculation that Earth isn’t the only planet that can sustain life.” The book lay abandoned in Hermione’s lap.

            “And Alien,” Harry said, “is a horror movie that takes place in space.”

            “How does that work?” Ron’s face was pinched with confusion.

            “It didn’t actually happen,” Hermione explained, “the movie was made with props and actors and sets to make it look like a spaceship.”

            “What, so Muggles like to pretend to go to space?”

            Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, the Americans sent people to the moon in 1969. Muggles have walked on the moon.”

            “There’s actually a movie coming out this summer about one of the missions following that one,” Hermione said eagerly.

            “Are you talking about Apollo 13?” Harry asked.

            Hermione nodded.

            “Oh, I’m looking forward to that one.”

            The rest of the room watched the two, bemused.

            “Right,” Ron said, “I want to see this Alien thing.”

            Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, and she grinned. “I’m sure I can figure out a way to show it to you!”

            “No offence, Hermione, but can you keep reading?” Ginny asked.

            “Oh, yes, of course.” Hermione’s face became a dark shade of red. “ _Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering…._

_They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table._

_“’Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ‘undred of these at the front desk.”_

_She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:_

_Mr. H. Potter_

_Room 17_

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

_Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared._

_“I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room._

_“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage._

_“Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared._

_It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled._

_“It’s Monday,” he told his mother. “The Great Humberto’s on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television.”_

_Monday. This reminded Harry of something. If it was Monday—and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television—then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry’s eleventh birthday.”_

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Fred and George called loudly.

            “Guys, it’s a book,” Harry said.

            “We know.”

            _“Of course, his birthdays were never exactly fun—last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon’s old socks. Still, you weren’t eleven every day.”_

“Technically you’re only eleven for the minute you were born,” Sirius said. “After that, you’re eleven plus a minute, and in a month eleven and a month, and so on.”

            _“Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn’t answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he’d bought._

_“Found the perfect place!” he said. “Come on! Everyone out!”_

_It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there._

_“Storm forecast tonight!” said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. “And this gentleman’s kindly agreed to lend us his boat!”_

“I wonder if he ever got his boat back,” Harry mused, mostly to himself.

            “What?” Remus asked, looking over at Harry.

            Harry waved his hand impatiently. “I’m sure you’ll find out in a few minutes.”

            _“A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbin in the iron-gray water below them/_

_“I’ve already got us some rations,” said Uncle Vernon, “so all aboard!”_

_It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house._

_The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms._

_Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up._

_“Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheerfully._

_He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn’t cheer him up at all._

_As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.”_

Sirius growled lowly and crossed his arms.

            _“The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn’t sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Dudley’s snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley’s watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he’d be eleven in ten minutes’ time. He lay and watched his birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now._

_Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn’t going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.”_

“You’re a right pessimist, you are, mate,” Ron said.

            _“Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he’d be able to steal one somehow._

_Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?_

_One minute to go and he’d be eleven. Thirty seconds…twenty…ten…nine—maybe he’d wake up Dudley, just to annoy him—three…two…one…_

_BOOM.”_

Hermione’s exclamation was so unexpected this time that Neville screamed and toppled off the sofa. Ginny smacked her friend, who was laughing so hard her eyes were watering, in the face with a pillow.

            “Bloody hell, Hermione,” Neville muttered as he returned to his seat, “warn us next time, yeah?”

            _“The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.”_ Hermione closed the book and handed it to Ginny with a flourish. “That’s the end of the chapter,” she grinned.

            “Excellent,” Ginny said. She opened the book up, took a look at the first page, and smirked widely. “ _Chapter four, The Keeper of the Keys….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna copy and paste the author's notes, sorry guys, but starting with chapter 16 (sixteen!!!! how far we've come from where we started!!!!) I'll have actual notes and not just passing commentary on previous notes.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	6. The Keeper of the Keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

            “Excellent,” Ginny said. She opened the book up, took a look at the first page, and smirked widely. “ _Chapter four, The Keeper of the Keys….”_

Now:

            _“BOOM.”_

“Ginny!” Hermione protested, rubbing her ear and glaring at the girl sitting next to her. Ginny’s shout had been the loudest so far, and several occupants of the reading room were glaring at her.

            “Sorry,” Ginny shrugged. “ _They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake._

_“Where’s the cannon?” he said stupidly._

_There was a crash from behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands—now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.”_

“He bought a rifle?” Lily shrieked, staring at the book in disbelief. “He carried a rifle into a house with two children?”

            “Sorry, what’s a rifle?” Neville asked.

            “It’s a kind of gun,” Hermione said, “and it’s a weapon that Muggles use. If someone shoots you with it, it’s almost as painful as the Cruciatus. And if you don’t have the wound treated in time, or you’re shot in the head or the heart, then it kills you.”

            Molly’s eyes narrowed down to dangerous slits. “And Harry’s uncle had one?”

            “That’s what the book says, Mum,” Ginny said.

            “Guys, this was like, four years ago, it was fine,” Harry interrupted. “Can we read?”

            _“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I warn you—I’m armed!”_

_There was a pause. Then—_

_SMASH.”_

“Ginerva Weasley!”

            _“The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor._

_A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair._

_The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all._

_“Couldn’t make us a cup o’ tea, could yeh? It’s not been an easy journey….”_

“That’s the first thing you said to him?” Minerva asked Hagrid.

            Hagrid grinned sheepishly.

            “It was great,” Harry said, “best birthday I’d had at that point. And it gets better.”

            _“He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear._

_“Budge up, yeh great lump,” said the stranger._

_Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon._

_“An’ here’s Harry!” said the giant._

_Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile._

_“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby,” said the giant. “Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mom’s eyes.”_

_Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise._

_“I demand that you leave at once, sir!” he said. “You are breaking and entering!”_

_“Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune,” said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun our of Uncle Vernon’s hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room._

_Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on._

_“Anyway—Harry,” said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, “a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here—I mighta sat on it at some point, but it’ll taste all right.”_

_From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.”_

“My first real birthday cake,” Harry proclaimed with a smile, not noticing the way Remus and Sirius flinched. That wasn’t remotely true, although Harry didn’t know it.

            _“Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, “Who are you?”_

_The giant chuckled._

_“True, I haven’t introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.”_

_He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry’s whole arm._

_“What about that tea then, eh?” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’d not say no ter summat stronger if yeh’ve got it, mind.”_

_His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn’t see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp but with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he’d sunk into a hot bath._

_The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.”_

“Hagrid!” Molly remarked, scandalized. “You were drinking in front of an eleven year old?”

            Hagrid’s clever response to the furious matriarch was, “Er….”

            “That was irresponsible! And you were Harry’s introduction to the magical world?”

            “That’s a fabulous point,” Minerva said. “Albus, why did you send Hagrid? You knew I was available to make the trip.”

            Dumbledore’s confidence faltered for a minute. He blinked, and then answered carefully, “I believed that Hagrid would be a more welcoming person for Harry, and the most intimidating for the Dursleys.”

            “So you knew that the Dursleys were mistreating Harry?” Sirius said.

            “Ah…no,” Dumbledore said slowly. “Arabella knew that Harry wasn’t quite happy there, but she never knew the extent of it.”

            Harry stared at Dumbledore as the dawning truth of something gnawed at the pit of his stomach. “Mrs. Figg was reporting back to you even before I saw Cedric die?” Harry asked harshly.

            “Yes,” said Dumbledore plainly.

            “Right, and no one thought to tell me that I was being monitored from the time that I was left with my aunt and uncle?”

            “Ms. Weasley, I think it would be best if you continued reading.” Dumbledore’s voice was almost a whisper, but the power his voice commanded prompted Ginny to shiver and start reading.

            _“Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, “Don’t touch anything he gives you, Dudley.”_

_The giant chuckled darkly._

_“Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Dursley, don’ worry.”_

_He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn’t take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, he said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”_

_The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand._

_“Call me Hagrid,” he said, “everyone does. An’ like I told yeh, I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts—yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’ course.”_

_“Er—no,” said Harry.”_

“Oh, this should be fun,” Ron chuckled.

            Harry snorted. “Just you wait, mate, just you wait.”

            _“Hagrid looked shocked._

_“Sorry,” Harry said quickly._

_“Sorry?” barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?”_

_“All what?” asked Harry._

_“ALL WHAT?” Hagrid thundered. “Now wait jus’ one second!”_

_He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut.”_

“Terrified me, that did,” Harry muttered lowly.

            The only person to hear him was Remus, who shifted to look at him with a grim expression on his face.

            “Why would that be terrifying to you?” Remus whispered.

            Harry cast him a nervous look. “If it doesn’t come up in this book, I’ll tell you.”

            Remus sighed. “Fine.”

            _“”Do you mean ter tell me,” he growled at the Dursleys, “that this boy—this boy!—knows nothin’ abou’—about ANYTHING?”_

_Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school, after all, and his marks weren’t bad._

_“I know some things,” he said. “I can, you know, do math and stuff.”_

_But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, “About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents’ world.”_

_“What world?”_

“Why, Harry my boy—“ George said, standing up and waving his hands around in a wide arch.

            “—the Wizarding world!” Fred finished, joining his twin.

            Draco rolled his eyes. “Can you two sit down so we can get through this chapter?”

            “Shut up, Ferret,” George sneered, even as he sank back into the couch.

            _“Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode._

_“DURSLEY!” he boomed._

_Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like “Mimblewimble.” Hagrid stared wildly at Harry._

_“But yeh must know about yer mom and dad,” he said, “I mean, they’re famous. You’re famous.”_

_“What? My—my mom and dad weren’t famous, were they?”_

_“Yeh don’ know…yeh don’ know…” Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare._

_“Yeh don’ know what yeh are?” he said finally._

_Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice._

_“Stop!” he commanded. “Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!”_

_A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage._

_“You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An’ you’ve kept it from him all these years?”_

_“Kept what from me?” said Harry eagerly._

_“STOP! I FORBID YOU!” yelled Uncle Vernon in panic._

_Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror._

_“Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh,” said Hagrid. “Harry—yer a wizard.”_

_There was a silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard._

_“I’m a what?” gasped Harry.”_

“I’m a what?” Fred repeated, grinning.

            “I’m a whot?” George slapped his hands to his face as he said this, his eyes widening dramatically.

            “I’m a whet?” Fred opened his mouth in faux shock as wide as he could and clapped a hand over his heart.

            “Shut up!” Ginny shouted, scowling at her brothers. The look on her face was enough to get them to cower in their seats. Ginny returned her gaze to the book. _“A wizard, o’ course,” said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, “an’ a thumpin’ good’un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit. With a mum an’ dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An’ I reckon it’s abou’ time yeh read yer letter.”_

_Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf, Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonalla,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Questions exploded inside Harry’s head like fireworks and he couldn’t decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, “What does it mean, they await my owl?”_

Hermione snorted. “That was your first question?”

            “What was yours?” Harry challenged.

            “I believe it was, ‘You’re joking, right? Magic isn’t real,’” Minerva said, smiling.

            Hermione turned pink and busied herself with adjusting her shoelaces.

            “Ha,” Harry grinned.

            _“”Gallopin’ Gorgons, that reminds me,” said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl—a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl—a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:_

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Given Harry his letter._

_Taking him to buy his things tomorrow._

_Weather’s horrible. Hope you’re well._

_Hagrid_

_Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.”_

“Oh,” Ron said, realizing something, “oh no.”

            “What?” Neville asked.

            “I tried to call Harry one summer,” Ron said, his ears turning red.

            Harry burst out laughing. “Oh, brilliant!” he said. “That’s going to be in these books, isn’t it?”

            Hermione, recalling the letter she’d received about the disastrous call, also started to laugh.

            _“Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly._

_“Where was I?” said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight._

_“He’s not going,” he said.”_

“Fat chance!” James spoke up, glaring at the book.

            Lily was also glaring at the book, her hands curled tightly into fists. “I’d love to have some choice words with my sister right now,” she hissed.

            _“Hagrid grunted._

_“I’d like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him,” he said._

_“A what?” said Harry, interested._

_“A Muggle,” said Hagrid, “it’s what we call nonmagic folk like them. An’ it’s your bad luck you grew up in a family o’ the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on.”_

_“We swore when we took him in we’d put a stop to that rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon, “swore we’d stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!”_

_“You knew?” said Harry. “You knew I’m a—a wizard?”_

_“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that—that school—and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!”_

_She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years._

_“Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you’d be just the same, just as strange, just as—as—abnormal—and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!””_

The room was dead silent for the space of a heartbeat.

            “That was how you found out?” Sirius asked weakly. “That’s how you found out the truth?”

            Harry nodded dully.

            “That’s horrible,” Hermione whispered, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

            Lily was openly crying, her hands clenched so tight that her knuckles had gone white.

            James looked sick, and even Snape was looking slightly grim.

            “Ginny, please read,” Harry asked quietly, looking over at the youngest Weasley.

            She nodded and wiped her eyes before continuing. _“Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, “Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!”_

_“CAR CRASH!” roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttle back into their corner. “How could a car crash kill Lily an’ James Potter? It’s an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin’ his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!”_

_“But why? What happened?” Harry asked urgently._

_The anger faded from Hagrid’s face. He looked suddenly anxious._

_“I never expected this,” he said, in a low, worried voice. “I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin’ hold of yeh, how much yeh didn’t know. Ah, Harry, I don’ know if I’m the right person ter tell yeh—but someone’s gotta—yeh can’t go off ter Hogwarts not knowin’.”_

“Merlin, can you imagine that?” Fred mused. “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, showing up to a school where every child idolizes him, and he has no idea why!”

            “Rita Skeeter would have had a field day,” Ron said.

            Harry looked horrified and shook his head violently. “Don’t say stuff like that, mate.”

            _“He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys._

_“Well, it’s best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh—mind, I can’t tell yeh everythin’, it’s a great myst’ry, parts of it….”_

_He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, “It begins, I suppose, with—with a person called—but it’s incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows—“_

_“Who?”_

_“Well—I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Gulpin’ gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went…bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…”_

_Hagrid gulped, but no words came out._

_“Could you write it down?” Harry suggested._

_“Nah—can’t spell it. All right—Voldemort.””_

Ginny spat the name out, not flinching at the book, but glaring at the word written on the page. “And a right bastard he is, too.”

            “Ginerva!” Molly snapped, glaring at her daughter.

            “It’s true, Mum!” Ginny protested.

            Arthur put a placating hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it out loud, Ginny.”

            “Merlin, they’re going to hate when they find out that Fred and George bewitched snowballs to bounce off of You-Know-Who’s face that Christmas,” Ron whispered in Hermione’s ear.

            Hermione coughed, her face twisting into a smile. “Shut up before you give everything away, Ron!”

            Ginny was still glaring at her mother, so Hermione elbowed her and whispered to her, “Just read, Ginny.”

            “Whatever,” Ginny huffed. “ _Hagrid shuddered. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em, too—some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn’t know who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches…terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him—an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then, anyway._

_“Now, yer mum an’ dad were as good a witch an’ wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an’ girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst’ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get ‘em on his side before…”_

“Oh, he tried,” James said darkly, gripping Lily’s arm.

            _“Probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anything; ter do with the Dark Side._

_“Maybe he thought he could persuade ‘em…maybe he just wanted ‘em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’—an’—“_

_Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn._

_“Sorry,” he said. “But it’s that sad—knew yer mum an’ dad, an’ nicer people yeh couldn’t find—anyway…_

_“You-Know-Who killed ‘em. An’ then—an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing—he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then.”_

Dumbledore’s expression darkened, and he eyed Harry carefully over the top of his glasses. If his suspicions were correct, then Harry was in for quite a shock at some point in the near future.

            _“But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh—took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even—but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age—the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts—an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”_

Molly dabbed at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve, sniffling.

            The tension in the room had shifted quickly to grief as the people who had lived through the first war were taken back to the days of watching their friends die fighting to create a better world—one, it seemed, that had been a pipe dream, seeing as how the man responsible for so much evil had never really died in the first place.

When Ginny began reading again, it was in a slightly subdued voice. “ _Something very painful was going on in Harry’s mind. As Hagrid’s story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before—and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.”_

“You remembered that at eleven years old?” Sirius choked out.

            “And more, when the Dementors were at Hogwarts,” said Harry.

            Sirius flinched.

            “Dementors at Hogwarts? Why would there be Dementors at Hogwarts?” James demanded, rounding on Minerva and Dumbledore.

            “I have no doubt that you’ll hear about it in the third book, Mr. Potter,” Minerva said.

            “We have to wait until the third book?” James grumbled.

            Several occupants of the room nodded, and James groaned.

            _“Hagrid was watching him sadly._

_“Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…”_

_“Load of old tosh,” said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched._

_“Now, you listen here, boy,” he snarled, “I accept there’s something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn’t have cured—“_

“Harry,” Remus said, his voice like ice, “I thought you said the worst was when your Aunt Marge was visiting.”

            “Er—it was.”

            “What are you saying then, that your uncle, who thinks a good beating would have cured you of magic, never actually hit you?” Remus was holding himself perfectly still, lest he spring up from the couch and find a way out of where they all were to go and have a choice word or two with the Dursleys.

            “Not exactly,” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably.

            Remus growled lowly. “Did your uncle ever hit you, Harry?”

            The tension that built in the room the longer Harry went without answering could have been cut with a knife. Finally, Harry said, “No.”

            “No?” Remus’s eyes were glinting with tightly contained fury.

            “No,” Harry repeated. “Aunt Petunia never let it go that far.”

            A heavy silence descended in the room. Before Harry had the chance to correct what he said, to fix the trouble he’d just created, Remus got up, trembling, and left the room.

            “Shit,” Sirius muttered, getting up and following Remus.

            For a moment, there was an awkward pause of movement in the room, and then there was the sound of something shattering in the kitchen.

            Harry, looking miserable, dropped his head into hands and stayed that way until a significantly less furious Remus and an annoyed Sirius reappeared in the room and sat back down.

            “Right, Harry,” Sirius said darkly, “the three of us are going to have another chat, and this time you’re going to be honest with us, clear?”

            “Clear,” came Harry’s voice, muffled by his hands.

            “Harry, look me in my eyes and promise me that you’ll tell us the truth.”

            Harry groaned. He lifted his head and stared into Sirius’s eyes. He saw something in them that stirred a familiar sorrow deep within him. “I promise,” he muttered, dropping his head back into his hands as soon as he’d spoken.

            Ginny cleared her throat, and several people jumped, having forgotten that they weren’t alone.

            “Keep reading,” Remus said tersely.

            _“And as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world’s better off without them in my opinion—“_

Lily tucked her head into the crook of James’s shoulder and began crying softly.

            _“Asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types—just what I expected, always knew they’d come to a sticky end—“_

_But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, “I’m warning you, Dursley—I’m warning you—one more word…”_

_In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon’s courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent._

_“That’s better,” said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor._

_Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them._

_“But what happened to Vol-, sorry—I mean, You-Know-Who?”_

_“Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous.”_

Harry momentarily lifted his head from his hands to scowl at the book.

            _“That’s the biggest myst’ry, see…he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful—why’d he go?_

_“Some say he died.”_

“He did!” Fudge snapped suddenly, startling the majority of the room. “He’s dead!”

            “Cornelius, please,” Dumbledore said heavily, staring at the Minister for Magic.

            Fudge opened his mouth to say more but was stopped by Ginny, who started reading again loudly.

            _“Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours.”_

Harry snorted into his hands, images from the graveyard flashing through his mind.

            _“Some of ‘em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back._

_“Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on—I dunno what it was, no one does—but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.”_

_Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He’d spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn’t they been turned into warty toads every time they’d tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he’d once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?_

_“Hagrid,” he said quietly, “I think you must have made a mistake. I don’t think I can be a wizard.”_

_To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled._

_“Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?”_

_Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it…every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry…chased by Dudley’s gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach…dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he’d managed to make it grow back…and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn’t he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn’t he set a boa constrictor on him?”_

“Definitely one of the most impressive cases of accidental magic I’ve ever heard,” Minerva said, a smile playing across her face.

            James nodded. “Even I wasn’t that good at vanishing things,” he said quietly.

            _“Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him._

_“See?” said Hagrid. “Harry Potter, not a wizard—you wait, you’ll be right famous at Hogwarts.”_

_But Uncle Vernon wasn’t going to give in without a fight._

_“Haven’t I told you he’s not going?” he hissed. “He’s going to Stonewall High and he’ll be grateful for it. I’ve read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish—spell books and wands and—“_

_“If he wants to go, a great Muggle like you won’t stop him,” growled Hagrid. “Stop Lily an’ James Potter’s son goin’ ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name’s been down ever since he was born. He’s off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won’t know himself. He’ll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an’ he’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled—“_

_“I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!” yelled Uncle Vernon._

_But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, “NEVER—“ he thundered, “—INSULT—ALBUS—DUMBLEDORE—IN—FRONT—OF—ME!””_

“Merlin, Ginny,” Hermione muttered, glowering at her.

            _“He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley—there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers.”_

There was a moment of dead silence, and then thunderous laughter broke out through the room.

            “Brilliant, Hagrid!” Fred roared, his face going red from laughing.

            “I never knew you had it in you,” George said, wiping tears from his face. “Amazing, that was!”

            Various similar sentiments were voiced, and Hagrid slowly turned a deep red, despite the grin on his face.

            The laughter was interrupted by an annoyed Ginny. “There’s a page left, guys!” she snapped. “Can we please just finish this chapter?”

            Silence fell, and Ginny grinned smugly. “ _Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them._

_Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard._

_“Shouldn’ta lost me temper,” he said ruefully, “but it didn’t work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn’t much left ter do.”_

_He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows._

_“Be grateful if yeh didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts,” he said. “I’m—er—not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter to a bit ter follow yeh an’ get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff—one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job—“_

_“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” asked Harry._

_“Oh, well—I was at Hogwarts meself but I—er—got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”_

_“Why were you expelled?””_

“Bet Harry finds out,” Sirius mused.

            _“”It’s getting’ late and we’ve got lots ter do tomorrow,” said Hagrid loudly. “Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an’ that.”_

_He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry._

_“You can kip under that,” he said. “Don’ mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o’ dormice in one o’ the pockets.””_

“Brilliant!” said Fred, yanking the book out of Ginny’s hands. “My turn!”

            “Yeah,” Ginny agreed, though her sentiment was cut off by a yawn.

            Arthur glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly 10,” he said. “How does one more chapter and then bed sound?”

            “Sounds good to me,” Harry said, raising his head and leaning back into the couch, avoiding looking at Remus and Sirius.

            “I get the last chapter of the day, then!” Fred crowed. _“Chapter five, Diagon Alley….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember last time I mentioned that I probably still had the files for my FIRST story like this that I stopped writing? I found the files and my GOD were they awful. I'd like to thank God and also Jesus for my improved writing skills, even if I mostly don't put that much effort into this story, because it's a fanfiction that's been done a million times over.
> 
> And remember when I said that I'd be doing that movie watching chapter probably after the chapter containing the Mirror of Erised? Chapter 16 is the Mirror of Erised chapter, which means I FINALLY get to write about Draco watching Alien and I've never been more excited to write about Draco Malfoy for something that's not strictly a Dramione fic.
> 
> Signing out for now,   
> WolfMist


	7. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

“I get the last chapter of the day, then!” Fred crowed. _“Chapter five, Diagon Alley….”_

Now:

_“Harry woke up early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight._

_“It was a dream,” he told himself firmly. “I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.”_

“Jeez, Harry, you really don’t know the concept of happy thoughts, do you?” Neville grinned.

“I don’t know the concept of a happy life, Neville,” Harry quipped.

Neville snorted.

_“There was suddenly a loud tapping noise._

_And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn’t open his eyes. It had been such a good dream._

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_“All right,” Harry mumbled, “I’m getting up.”_

_He sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak._

_Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside of him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat._

_“Don’t do that.”_

_Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat._

_“Hagrid!” said Harry loudly. “There’s an owl—“_

_“Pay him,” Hagrid grunted into the sofa._

_“What?”_

_“He wants pain’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”_

_Hagrid’s coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets—bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags…finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins._

_“Give him five Knuts,” said Hagrid sleepily.”_

“But Harry doesn’t know what those are,” Lily frowned. “Why are you making him pay the owl?”

“I wanted him to get used to the money,” Hagrid said, shrugging.

“Oh,” said Lily. “Alright, then.”

_“”Knuts?””_

“Yeah, deez nuts,” Harry snickered.

Hermione groaned. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“What?” Harry said. “It’s a hilarious joke. I can’t believe Dr. Dre got away with that. Musicians are under serious scrutiny with their first album.”

“Yeah, but Harry, that was in 1992. It’s been three years, please just let that die.”

Harry pouted. “But Hermione, it’s so funny! I hope it comes back some day with an unironic vengeance!”

“Be careful what you wish for, Harry, or we could have someone running for Minister for Magic under the name ‘Deez Nuts’,” Hermione said.

“I don’t know why you’re upset by that, it sounds brilliant,” Harry proclaimed, shaking with laughter.

“If you’re quite finished talking about something the rest of us are clueless about,” Regulus said, “I’d like to finish this chapter so I can sleep.”

_“”The little bronze ones.”_

_Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his led so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window._

_Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched._

_“Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”_

_Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.”_

George muttered something in Fred’s ear, who nodded, looking delighted.

_“”Um—Hagrid?”_

_“Mm?” said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots._

_“I haven’t got any money—and you heard Uncle Vernon last night…he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic.””_

“It’s a very good thing that Hogwarts is paid for by the Ministry, then,” Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Wait, really?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, Ms. Granger,” Minerva said. “The Ministry pays for the education of every witch and wizard who attends Hogwarts.”

_“”Don’t worry about that,” said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”_

_“But if their house was destroyed—“_

_“They didn’ keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold—an’ I wouldn’t say no the a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”_

_“Wizards have banks?”_

_“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.””_

“What, so everyone in the Wizarding world keeps their money in Gringotts? What about people living in France? Or America? I’ve never seen anyone from any other country in Diagon Alley, and there are witches and wizards all over the world,” Hermione said, frowning. “You can’t possibly expect Illvermony students and families to keep their money in London, can you? That seems very inconvenient.”

“Gringotts has branches, just like any other bank, Ms. Granger,” Snape said. “Now, if you’re finished asking stupid questions, shall we continue reading?”

Hermione turned a bright red and nodded.

_“Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding._

_“Goblins?”_

_“Yeah—so yeh’d be made ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe—‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.””_

“Oh no,” Ron groaned, “that’s how it started. Hagrid, why did you have to say that?”

“Hey,” Harry said, before Hagrid could respond, “it’s a good thing he did, or Voldemort would have come back our first year instead of last year.”

“What?” James snapped his eyes back and forth between Harry and Ron. “Why could he have come back then?”

“Er—“ said Ron.

“Whoops, shi-shoot,” Harry said. “You’ll see.”

“I’m beginning to hate that phrase,” James said darkly, “but whatever. Let’s keep reading.”

_“Hagrid drew himself up proudly. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you—getting’ things from Gringotts—knows he can trust me, see._

_“Got everythin’? Come on, then.”_

_Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm._

_“How did you get here?” Harry asked, looking around for another boat.”_

“You took the words right out of my mouth, young Padawan,” George grinned.

_“”Fle—“_ Fred began, but Harry interrupted him.

“Hang on a minute, George,” he said, staring at the bookless twin. “Did you just make a Star Wars joke?”

“’Course I did, I’m not an imbecile, Harry.”

“Wait, but how do you even know about Star Wars? When did you see Star Wars?” Harry questioned.

“Magic, young Harry,” George replied, winking.

Harry huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Okay, I won’t!”

_“”Flew,” said Hagrid,”_ Fred read loudly. _“”Flew?”_

_“Yeah—but we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.”_

_They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying._

_“Seems a shame ter row, though,” said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. “If I was ter—er—speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?”_

_“Of course not,” said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land._

_“Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?” Harry asked._

_“Spells—enchantments,” said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. “They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high-security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way—Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat.””_

“Harry,” Hermione said suddenly, “if we end up breaking into Gringotts on one of your assumptions at any point in the future, I’m going to kill you.”

“Hey!” Harry protested. “What makes you think that would ever happen?”

“It’s just your luck,” Ron said.

Harry glowered at his two best friends. “It’s not going to happen.”

“If you say so,” Hermione said.

_“Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he’d never had so many questions in his life._

_“Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual,” Hagrid muttered, turning the page.”_

“The Ministry does not mess things up,” Percy said, holding his head high, surveying the room out of the corners of his eyes.

“That’s a joke if I’ve ever heard you tell one, Percy,” George snapped.

“Shut up, Percy,” Fred said. _“”There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked, before he could stop himself._

_“’Course,” said Hagrid. “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ fer advice.””_

“I did not,” Fudge protested before he could stop himself.

Dumbledore only chuckled quietly in response.

_“”But what does a Ministry of Magic do?”_

_“Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.”_

“I don’t know,” Lily mused, “in some ways the Muggle world is very much more advanced than we are.

“Mrs. Potter has a point,” Hermione said quietly, twisting her hands. “Magic can fix a lot, but if someone tried shooting You-Know—V-Voldemort—it’d probably do a better job than using magic to kill him.”

Harry snorted. “Right, so the next time I find myself in a graveyard in a fight to the death with Voldemort, I’ll just remember to bring a gun with me.”

“I’m serious, Harry!” Hermione said, her voice growing more confident. “He underestimates so much about the people he hates, it would be the perfect way to defeat him!”

“Actually, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore said, “there is quite a bit you do not know about the connection between Harry and Lord Voldemort. Magic, in this case, would be the best way for Harry to defeat him.”

Hermione frowned, but stayed silent, thinking hard.

Harry, on the other hand, turned to Dumbledore and snapped, “And what do you know about the connection between me and him? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Harry, my dear boy, I assure you that I have told you everything that I fe—that I believe you should know at this point.”

“So there’s more?” Harry said, resisting the temptation to stand and scream at the Headmaster.

“Of course there’s more,” James said. “Did you not tell him about the prophecy?”

“Prophecy? What prophecy?” Harry asked his father.

James pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You didn’t tell him about the prophecy?” he asked Dumbledore.

“No. I felt it—pertinent—to not reveal to Harry the reason Voldemort targeted him at such a young age until I felt he was—old enough to understand.” Dumbledore took a while to answer the question, weighing his words carefully.

“There’s a reason Voldemort tried to kill me? He didn’t just want to kill my parents?” Harry’s face was dark with fury.

It was James who answered. “Yes,” he said, “but I believe that’s a conversation best had after this chapter. It’s not something that should be discussed in the middle of reading.”

Harry bit his lip, trying to get a handle on his anger. “Fine,” he said at last, “after this chapter. But I’m not waiting until tomorrow.”

“Deal,” James said, nodding at his son.

Harry nodded curtly and turned his now very distracted thoughts back to Fred.

_“At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street._

_Passerby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn’t blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, “See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?”_

_“Hagrid,” said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, “did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?”_

_“Well, so they say,” said Hagrid. “Crikey, I’d like a dragon.”_

Hermione and Ron paled at the mention of Hagrid wanting a dragon, realizing that their professors would soon hear the truth about Norbert.

Draco, however, was grinning nastily, shooting daggers at Hermione and Harry. Oh, yes, justice was coming; as sure as the dawn of the second war had come the night of the third task.

Minerva, seeing these reactions to what Hagrid had voiced four years ago, swallowed heavily, hoping that her suspicions were wrong. There was no way two eleven year olds had actually smuggled a baby dragon out of Hogwarts, after all.

_“”You’d like one?”_

_“Wanted one ever since I was a kid—here we go.”_

_They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes’ time. Hagrid, who didn’t understand “Muggle money”, as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets._

_People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent._

_“Still got yer letter, Harry?” he asked as he counted stitches._

_Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket._

_“Good,” said Hagrid. “There’s a list there of everything yeh need.”_

_Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn’t noticede the night before, and read:_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

  1. _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_
  2. _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_
  3. _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_
  4. _One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_



_Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags_

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_

_A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1 set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS._

_“Can we buy all this in London?” Harry wondered aloud._

_“If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid._

_Harry had never been to London before.”_

“Really?” Regulus asked. “Even as a kid my parents took me to London.”

“Really,” Harry said. “Any time the Dursleys went to London or anywhere of the sort, they left me with Mrs. Figg or tried to lock my in my cupboard.”

“Ah,” Regulus said slowly, scratching his chin. “Right.”

_“Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow._

_“I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops._

_Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn’t known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn’t help trusting him._

_“This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt, “the Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”_

_It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harry wouldn’t have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside._

_For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”_

_“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry’s shoulder and making Harry’s knees buckle._

“Hagrid,” Lily said, a small smile on her face, “that was probably the worst way to introduce Harry to being famous for something he didn’t know about until the night before.”

Hagrid chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry about that, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry waved a hand absentmindedly, staring at the book.

_“”Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Harry, “is this—can this be—?”_

_The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent._

_“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter…what an honor.”_

_He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes._

_“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.””_

“Dunno why he said that,” Harry said, “I doubt I ever had time to be there.”

Sirius coughed. “Actually, one day a few months after you were born, Lily asked me to look after you for the day. So I—ah—that is to say—we may have spent some time in Diagon Alley,” he said, casting a fearful glance at Lily.

She glared at him. “Sirius Black, are you saying that you took my baby into a pub?”

“Ah….”

“I could kill you, Black,” Lily snapped, “but that would put stress on my unborn son that you’re going to take into a pub before he’s a year old!”

Remus hid his face in his hands; his shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth.

_“Harry didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming._

_Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.”_

“And I liked it as much as I liked being singled out in Flourish and Blotts to take a photo with Lockhart,” Harry snapped at Draco before the latter could open his mouth. “Which is to say, not at all.”

_“”Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”_

_“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.”_

_“Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”_

_“I’ve seen you before!” said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat fell off in his excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop.”_

_“He remembers!” cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. “Did you hear that? He remembers me!”_

_Harry shook hands again and again—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more._

_A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching._

_“Professor Quirrell!” said Hagrid. “Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”_

_“P-P-Potter,” stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand, “c-can’t tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”_

_“What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?”_

_“D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-Potter?” He laughed nervously. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought._

Fred would have kept reading without a problem, but Harry interrupted him by swearing so harshly and so loudly that Molly and Lily both said, “Harry James Potter!” in scandalized tones.

“Sorry,” Harry said, rushing over the words, “but I’ve just realized something that should have been obvious a very long time ago.”

Snape, realizing what he was talking about, snorted derisively.

Ron and Hermione merely looked their confusion at Harry.

“Quirrell,” he said, looking at them, stressing the word.

“Oh!” Hermione squeaked, coming to the same understanding that Harry had.

Ron squinted his eyes at Harry, and then his eyes widened. “Ah—yeah, that would be—okay,” he said.

“What the hell are we all missing here?” George demanded.

“You’ll find out,” the trio chorused, their faces stony.

George rolled his eyes. “Fred, if you don’t keep reading so we can find out, I’ll take that book from you and do it myself.”

_“But the others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble._

_“Must get on—lots ter buy. Come on, Harry.”_

_Doris Crockford shook Harry’s hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds._

_Hagrid grinned at Harry._

_“Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh—mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.”_

_“Is he always that nervous?”_

_“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin’ outta books, but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience….”_

In lieu of speaking, Harry made a particularly violent hand gesture in the direction of the book, which miraculously went unnoticed by Molly and Lily.

Remus noticed, though, and leaned down and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Now what was that for?”

“Ah—I didn’t quite like him, he always made an example out of me in class,” Harry, remembering Lockhart, lied.

Remus raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.

_“They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o’ trouble with a hag—never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject—now, where’s me umbrella?”_

_Vampires? Hags? Harry’s head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can._

_“Three up…two across...” he muttered. “Right, stand back, Harry.”_

_He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella._

_The brick he had touched quivered—it wriggled—in the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight._

_“Welcome,” said Hagrid, “to Diagon Alley.”_

_He grinned at Harry’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall._

_The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them._

_“Yeah, you’ll be needin’ one,” said Hagrid, “but we gotta get yer money first.”_

_Harry wished he had about eight more eyes.”_

Ron shuddered. “What is it with you and spiders, mate?”

Harry just laughed.

_“He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad….”_

_A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium—Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. “Look,” Harry heard one of them say, “the new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever—“”_

“A moment,” Fred said, closing the book heavily, “of silence for Harry’s wonderful broomstick, forever lost to us after his tragic accident two years ago.”

The kids present in the room laughed.

“Tragic accident?” Lily said, alarmed, her hands flying to her stomach to protect her unborn son.

Sirius, shaking his head, said, “Don’t worry, you’ll find out. It’s not as bad as Fred is making it seem.”

Lily scowled at the Weasley twin with the book, who laughed harder.

_“There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…._

_“Gringotts,” said Hagrid._

_They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was—_

_“Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:_

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

_“Like I said, yeh’d be made ter try an’ rob it,” said Hagrid._

_A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter._

_“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Harry Potter’s safe.”_

_“You have his key, sir?””_

“Hey,” Harry said, “why did Hagrid have my key? If the goblins working at Gringotts could keep my vault safe for eleven years, why couldn’t they keep my key safe, too?”

“Goblins do not look after keys, Harry,” Dumbledore explained gently, slightly weary of Harry getting angry again. “And as you had no living magical relatives, the goblins asked me to keep an eye on the key.”

“Alright,” said Harry slowly, eyeing Dumbledore. “Why ask you, though? Why not Remus?”

“Goblins don’t trust wizards, Harry, but they trust werewolves less,” Remus said. “And besides, had the goblins asked me, I probably would have given it to Albus anyways.”

Harry nodded slightly, satisfied with this answer.

_“”Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin’s book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals._

_“Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key._

_The goblin looked at it closely._

_“That seems to be in order.”_

_“An’ I’ve also got a letter her from Professor Dumbledore,” said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”_

_The goblin read the letter carefully._

_“Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”_

_Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall._

_“What’s the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?” Harry asked._

“It’s obviously Voldemort’s secret stash of lingerie,” Ginny said, shrugging. “What else could it possibly be?”

The image alone was enough to horrify Harry. “Merlin, no,” he said. “Can you imagine Voldemort in lacy underwear?”

“What about in garter belts?” Ginny suggested, grinning devilishly.

Regulus looked like he might actually be ill right there.

“Do not,” Snape said stiffly, “poke fun at the Dark Lord, Ms. Weasley. If he ever finds out you said…”

“Oh, he won’t,” Ginny said flippantly. “Fred?”

_“”Can’t tell yeh that,” said Hagrid mysteriously. “Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.”_

_Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in—Hagrid with some difficulty—and were off._

_At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn’t steering._

_Harry’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted to see if it was a dragon, but too late—they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.”_

_“I never know,” Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, “what’s the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?””_

“Oh!” Hermione said, bouncing eagerly in her seat. “A stalagmite is the one that’s on the ground, because it “mite” grow tall enough to touch the ceiling. A stalactite is the one that’s on the ceiling, because it holds “tite” to the ceiling so that it doesn’t fall.”

“That…is definitely an interesting way of remembering,” said Remus.

“I learned about it on a school field trip to the White Star Caves in grade school.” Hermione was grinning broadly.

“Do Muggles habitually take school children into caves?” Draco asked, alarmed.

“Oh, yeah,” Hermione said, “all the time. White Star Caves is a show cave in Yorkshire. Muggles found this cave and brought in walkways and ladders and a bunch of other equipment and made it a place people could explore, and now they make a fortune with it.”

“That sounds…fascinating, actually,” Draco said slowly.

Hermione smirked. “I could take you sometime, if you’d like.”

The room went dead silent, everyone staring at Hermione.

Draco eyed her, his confusion gleaming in his eyes. Eventually, he nodded. “Alright, Granger, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Brilliant,” Hermione said.

“Hermione?” Ron asked, his tone strained with shock.

“Hmm?”

“What are you playing at?”

“I’m being friendly, Ronald.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“That’s hardly being frie—“

“Fred!” Harry said urgently. “Read, before they kill each other.”

“Right,” Fred said. _“”Stalagmite’s got an ‘m’ in it,” said Hagrid. “An’ don’ ask me questions just now, I think I’m gonna be sick.”_

_He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling._

_Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze nuts._

_“All yours,” smiled Hagrid._

_All Harry’s—it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have known about this or they’d have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London._

_Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag._

_“The gold ones are Galleons,” he explained, “Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.” He turned to Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?”_

_“One speed only,” said Griphook._

_They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck._

_Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole._

_“Stand back,” said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away._

_“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there,” said Griphook._

_“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked._

_“About once every ten years,” said Griphook with a rather nasty smile._

“Too bad that didn’t happen,” Harry remarked, glaring at the book, “my life would be a hell of a lot easier if it did.”

Ron laughed. “You make it sound like you want to be stuck in there, mate.”

“Maybe so,” Harry said. “I mean, Voldemort certainly wouldn’t think to check for me in a vault in Gringotts, would he?”

“You have a point,” Ron conceded, grinning wildly.

“You’re crazy.” Hermione shook her head.

Harry grinned. “And that’s why you love me!”

_“Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least—but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask._

_“Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk to me on the way back, it’s best if I keep me mouth shut,” said Hagrid._

_One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn’t know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn’t have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he’d ever had in his whole life—more money than even Dudley had ever had._

_“Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin’s shop alone, feeling nervous._

Draco realized, his heart skipping a beat, that this was when he’d met Harry for the first time. He swallowed, playing nervously with his fingernails.

_“Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve._

_“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, when Harry started to speak. “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.””_

With a start, Harry remembered who it was he’d met in Madam Malkin’s, and he grinned widely. This was sure to be fun for everyone—except Draco.

_“In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length._

_“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”_

_“Yes,” said Harry._

_“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice.”_

Draco turned a light shade of pink as Ron, who had realized what was going on, burst out laughing.

“That’s a spot on impression, Harry!” Ron said.

_“”Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”_

_Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley._

“I am nothing like that disgusting Muggle, Potter!” Draco burst out, unable to stop himself. He looked equal parts furious and embarrassed as Fred read about his first interaction with the Boy Who Lived.

“Well…” Harry dragged out the word. “Maybe not anymore, but we’ll see about that.”

Draco flushed a darker pink and glared at Harry as Fred began reading again.

_“”Have you got your own broom?” the boy went on._

_“No,” said Harry._

_“Play Quidditch at all?”_

_“No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be._

Like Sirius had earlier, James clasped a hand over his heart and gasped dramatically. “My own son, not knowing what Quidditch is? What has the world come to?”

“James, shut up,” Lily hissed.

_“”I don—Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”_

_“No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute._

_“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”_

_“Mmm,” said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting._

“You always could have asked what the hell a Hufflepuff is,” Ron said.

“Ronald!” Molly snapped.

“I was joking,” Ron grumbled, “sorry.”

Molly nodded, appeased, while Harry hid a smile behind his hand.

_“”I say, look at that man!” said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in._

_“That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn’t. “He works at Hogwarts.”_

_“Oh,” said the boy, “I’ve heard of him. He’s sort of a servant, isn’t he?”_

_“He’s the gamekeeper,” said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second._

_“Yes, exactly. I heard he’s sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.””_

“Mr. Malfoy!” Minerva said, her voice sharp and her eyes glinting with fury.

“Er—“ Draco replied.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Minerva said again, “I expect better from Hogwarts students. That was a terribly rude thing to say, and you will not say it again, is that clear?”

Draco didn’t say anything in reply, but nodded, though his eyes told a different story.

_“”I think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly._

_“Do you?” said the boy, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”_

_“They’re dead,” said Harry shortly. He didn’t feel much like going into the matter with this boy._

_“Oh, sorry,” said the other, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?””_

“Our kind?” Lily said furiously. “Our kind? And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Every witch and wizard is ‘our kind’, like it or not, young man!”

“Lils,” James said, “what do you expect? He’s a Malfoy.”

Lily rounded on James. “Don’t you start!” she snapped.

_“”They were a witch and wizard, if that’s what you mean.”_

_“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you?”_

“The other sort?” Snape said, his voice dangerously low. “And what, Draco, did you mean by that?”

Draco went to defend himself, but, realizing who he was in a room with for God knew how long, quailed under the look his godfather was giving him. “Nothing, sir,” he said quietly.

Snape quirked an eyebrow, but let it go.

Hermione blinked back angry tears and gripped Ron’s hand tightly in an attempt to remind herself that she was in a room full of people that weren’t Draco, who thought she was the smartest witch of her age.

Ron squeezed her hand slightly, and Hermione felt a bit of tension disappear.

_“They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?”_

_But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool._

_“Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the drawling boy._

_Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts)._

_“What’s up?” said Hagrid._

_“Nothing,” Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, “Hagrid, what’s Quidditch?”_

James gave a faint gasp.

_“”Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin’ how little yeh know—not knowin’ about Quidditch!”_

_“Don’t make me feel worse,” said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin’s._

_“—and he said people from Muggle families shouldn’t even be allowed in—“_

_“Yer not from a Muggle family. If he’d known who yeh were—he’s grown up knowin’ yer name if his parents are wizardin’ folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o’ the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in ‘em in a long line of Muggles—look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!”_

_“So what is Quidditch?”_

_“It’s our sport. Wizard sport. It’s like—like soccer in the Muggle world—everyone follows Quidditch—played up in the air on broomstick and there’s four balls—sorta hard ter explain the rules.””_

“No, it isn’t,” chorused every Quidditch player in the room, making those who didn’t play groan.

Hagrid chuckled and raised a hand. “My apologies, folks.”

_“”And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?”_

_“School houses. There’s four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o’ duffers, but—“_

_“I bet I’m in Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily._

_“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin,” said Hagrid darkly. “There’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.”_

_“Vol-sorry—You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?”_

_“Years an’ years ago,” said Hagrid._

_They bought Harry’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian._

_“I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley.””_

“Brilliant,” Sirius said.

“I know,” Harry replied.

_“”I’m not sayin’ that’s not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances,” said Hagrid. “An’ anyway, yeh couldn’t work any of them curses yet, yeh’ll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level.”_

_Hagrid wouldn’t let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either (“It says pewter on yer list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell—“_

A horribly surprised noise came from the back of Snape’s throat. “You were interested in potions, Potter?” he sneered. “What changed?”

“A professor who refuses to see me as my own person, and only sees my father.” Harry replied coolly. “Oh, and a professor who believes that I value my fame above anything else.”

Lily was looking between Harry and Snape, curious. “You’re the potions professor?” she asked Snape.

Now Snape was really in trouble, he could see it in Lily’s eyes. “Ah—yes,” he said.

Lily’s calm gaze morphed into a glare. “Severus Snape,” she began, “how dare you tre—“

_“—a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages,”_ Fred read out, drowning out Lily telling off Snape. “Guys, I’m exhausted, and there’s only like, five pages left. Please, try to refrain from saying things all the time!”

George snickered. “Saying things all the time?”

“Shut up, I’m tired,” Fred hissed, tightening his grip on the book.

“Whatever you say, Gred.”

_“Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop)._

_Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry’s list again._

_“Just yer wand left—oh yeah, I an’ I still haven’t got yeh a birthday present.”_

_Harry felt himself go red._

_“You don’t have to—“_

_“I know I don’t have to. Tell yeh what, I’ll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh’d be laughed at—“”_

Neville blushed deeply.

_“”An’ I don’ like cats, they make me sneeze. I’ll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they’re dead useful, carry yer mail an’ everythin’.”_

_Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing.”_

“Oh, Hagrid bought Hedwig for you?” Hermione cooed.

Harry nodded, feeling himself turning red again.

“That’s so sweet,” Hermione said.

_“He couldn’t stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell._

_“Don’ mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. “Don’ expect you’ve had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now—only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand.”_

_A magic wand…this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.”_

Everyone voiced their agreement in some way, and Harry smiled.

_“The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window._

_A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.”_

“Excuse me, Mr. Weasley, could you repeat that, please?” Dumbledore asked, sitting forward in his seat with intense interest.

Fred repeated the last sentence, frowning.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting,” he murmured.

“What’s interesting?” Harry asked.

“Only a very powerful witch or wizard can feel the magic in places like that, Harry,” Dumbledore explained quietly.

Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said.

_“”Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair._

_An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop._

_“Hello,” said Harry awkwardly._

_“Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes. I thought I‘d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice for charm work.”_

_Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy._

_“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it—its really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.””_

“How does that work?” Hermione couldn’t help the question, it was something she’d been intrigued by since she got her own wand from Ollivanders.

“That is a question only an expert of wand lore could answer, Ms. Granger,” Minerva said.

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat that was obvious to everyone as a noise of disappointment.

_“Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes._

_“And that’s where…”_

_Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger._

_“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do….”_

_He shook his head and then, to Harry’s relief, spotted Hagrid._

_“Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again…. Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn’t it?”_

_“It was sir, yes,” said Hagrid._

_“Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?” said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern._

_“Er—yes, they did, yes,” said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. “I’ve still got the pieces, though,” he added brightly._

_“But you don’t use them?” said Mr. Ollivander sharply._

_“Oh, no, sir,” said Hagrid very quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.”_

“That’s impossible, though,” Amelia Bones said, speaking up for the first time in a while. “Wands are near impossible to repair, it would take magic from a very powerful wand, a wand of legends….”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled mysteriously. “That it would, I believe.”

_“”Hmmm,” said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. “Well, now—Mr. Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”_

_“Er—well, I’m right-handed,” said Harry._

_“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers,, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”_

_Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes._

_“That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”_

_Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once._

_“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try—“_

_Harry tried—but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander._

_“No, no—here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”_

_Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair—“_

“Merlin, Harry, how many wands did you try?” Ron asked.

“Around thirty, I think,” Harry said.

“Damn,” Sirius whistled. “That’s impressive. I found mine in five.”

_“—but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become._

_“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere—I wonder, now—yes, why not—unusual combination—holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”_

_Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…””_

“What’s curious about that?” Regulus asked, intrigued. “It’s just a wand.”

Harry bit back a groan. _Here it comes,_ he thought miserably. No one would look at him the same way when they found out the truth about his wand.

_“He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious…curious…”_

_“Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?”_

_Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare._

_“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather—just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother—why, its brother gave you that scar.””_

“What?” several people asked, glancing at Harry.

Harry nodded. “Mine and Voldemort’s wands are twins,” he muttered dully.

“That’s quite…unexpected, I suppose,” George said brightly. “All the more reason for you to beat him, Harry, there can only be one wand to lead us all.”

“I’m going to beat him anyway—hang on, why the hell did you just compare me to defeating Voldemort to throwing a ring into a volcano?”

George grinned and winked at Harry.

“Moving on!” Fred cried. _“Harry swallowed._

_“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great.”_

_Harry shivered. He wasn’t sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop._

_The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn’t even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry’s lap._

“Harry Potter not noticing people staring at him? That’s a first,” Ron said.

Harry glared at him.

_“Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they where when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder._

_“Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves,” he said._

_He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow._

_“You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet,” said Hagrid._

_Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had the best birthday of his life—and yet—he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words._

_“Everyone thinks I’m special,” he said at last. “All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander…but I don’t know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for.”_

Harry looked very pointedly at Snape.

_“I don’t know what happened when Vol-, sorry—I mean, the night my parents died.”_

_Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile._

_“Don’ you worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts—I did—still do, ‘smatter of fact.”_

_Hagrid helped Harry onto the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope._

_“Yer ticket for Hogwarts,” he said. “First o’ September—King’s Cross—it’s all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she’ll know where to find me…. See yeh soon, Harry.”_

_The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.”_

Fred was silent for a moment, staring in profound relief at the blank space on the rest of the page. Finally, he spoke. “Chapter’s over,” he said, tossing the book on the table in front of him.

With those words, there was a great clamoring as most everyone rushed out of the room and up the stairs to find their rooms, eager to collapse into a bed.

The only people who remained behind were the Potters, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione, and Minerva.

“Right,” said Harry. “What the hell is this about a prophecy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the chapter that took a day to write before I realized I was being stupid and didn't have to write all day. The chapter of stupid jokes and the chapter where I realized that wow, I really love sneaking in stupid jokes and references because sure, I'm a graduate student (almost), but where's the fun in life if I can't make dumb jokes in a Harry Potter fanfiction?
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	8. Learning About the Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            The only people who remained behind were the Potters, Remus, Sirius, Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione, and Minerva.

            “Right,” said Harry. “What the hell is this about a prophecy?”

 

Now:

 

            For a brief moment, no one responded. Harry ran a hand through his hair, a look of frustration growing on his face.

            “When I was hiring a professor,” Dumbledore began, “early in 1980, it was made known to me that there was a prophecy that spoke of the potential downfall of Lord Voldemort.” He spoke slowly, carefully, and was watching Harry with great interest.

            “How did you find out about it?” Harry demanded. “Who told you about the prophecy?”

            “The professor I was hiring.” Dumbledore laced his fingers together. “Do you recall, Harry, the prophecy that Professor Trelawney told you in your third year?”

            “Yes,” said Harry.

            “What…?” Ron started, but he was hushed by Hermione.

            “So you are aware then, that Professor Trelawney truly possesses the Sight.” It wasn’t a question.

            “She’s the one who told you this other prophecy?”

            “She is,” Dumbledore said.

            “What is the pro—“

            Dumbledore cut over Harry’s question. “A Death Eater spy overheard the prophecy and brought the information to Lord Voldemort. Luckily, the Death Eater only heard the first half of the prophecy, and so Lord Voldemort only had half of the information.”

            “Is that why we went into hiding?” Lily asked, her voice so quiet that for a moment no one could place who’d spoken.

            It was Remus who answered. “It is,” he said. “It’s also why the Longbottoms went into hiding.”

            “Why would Neville’s family go into hiding too?” Harry’s tone was sharp. His eyes glittered strangely.

            Hermione and Ron sat quietly, eyes darting back and forth between speakers.

            “The prophecy spoke of—“

            This time it was Harry who cut Dumbledore off. “I don’t care what it spoke of! What was the prophecy?”

            Dumbledore sighed. “I was hoping to keep—“

            “Keep it from me until I was old enough to handle it?”

            “Harry,” Sirius said sharply.

            “No, I want to know! Tell me what the prophecy is. All of it,” snapped Harry.

            Dumbledore raised a hand. “All right,” he said. Harry grew still, listening intently. “This is what Professor Trelawney said to me that day: ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.’”

            For a long time, Harry didn’t move. Then at last, he said, “Neither can live while the other survives?”

            “Yes,” Dumbledore said.

            “So…I have to kill him, or he’s going to kill me.”

            “Yes.”

            Harry stood and began pacing the room, his face drawn.

            “Harry….” It didn’t matter who said it. Harry felt something in him hardening at the information he’d just heard. Either he would have to kill Voldemort or Voldemort would kill him.

            “I know it’s a lot to take in, Harry, but it doesn’t have to mean anything.” That was Sirius.

            Harry spun around and stared at him. “You knew?”

            “What?”

            “You knew about the prophecy? What it said?” Harry glared at his godfather.

            Sirius exhaled slowly. “Dumbledore did tell me after the Tr—after last year, yes.”

            “And you just decided that I didn’t have a right to know?”

            “It wasn’t like that, Harry.”

            Harry took a few steadying breaths. His gaze strayed over to James and Lily. James looked like Harry felt, and Lily looked like she was likely to start crying.

            “I’m going to bed.” The words came out before Harry could stop them. He, of course, had no intention of sleeping now, but he couldn’t linger in the room, where it seemed that everyone he’d trusted in his life knew that he was destined to kill or be killed by somebody who’d marked him for death just for being born at the end of July. He bolted from the room and a few moments later, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the house.

            “I—we’re gonna—yeah,” Ron said, and he grabbed Hermione’s hand as the two followed Harry.

 

            Remus sighed. His face was lined with exhaustion. “That went well.”

            “Sure it did,” Sirius snorted. “And I’m the King of France.”

            It was Minerva who finally said, “Albus, you need to learn to stop keeping things secret from that boy. He deserves better than that.”

            Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose he does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, this chapter was written back in mid-September of 2017, the first time my grandfather was really sick and almost died.
> 
> He kept saying in the hospital and even after that it was because his girlfriend pushed him down the stairs. Which obviously is not what happened, he choked on a large piece of steak and it nearly killed him (and then happened EXACTLY a year later but he actually died that time. Fun fact: paramedics, when they pick you up with an ambulance, generally don't have patient records and therefore had no idea that he was DNR--do not resuscitate--and revived him, so by all accounts he should have passed last September, but life has a funny way of working). Anyways, it was always funny to hear BOTH OF THEM recount that story because they both became convinced that she pushed him down the stairs. So tell me, why would you stay with her if she pushed you down the stairs, landed you in a foreign hospital, and nearly killed you?
> 
> People are strange.
> 
> Signing out for now,   
> WolfMist


	9. The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            It was Minerva who finally said, “Albus, you need to learn to stop keeping things secret from that boy. He deserves better than that.”

            Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose he does.”

 

Now:

 

            Harry groaned and rolled over in his bed. He’d stayed up late into the night with Ron and Hermione, worrying over the implications of the prophecy, and as a result, had not gotten much sleep. _Neither can live while the other survives._ Truthfully, Harry couldn’t really say that he was surprised. After all, he’d been involved with Voldemort from before he was even born. In fact, he thought, laughing darkly into his pillow, it was almost as though his parents were destined to meet, as if he was destined to be born. As if he was destined to be the Jesus of the Wizarding world.

            “Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered.

            “What was that mate?” Ron was already up, hopping around the bedroom as he attempted to put his socks on while standing.

            “Nothing important,” Harry said, sitting up. He put his glasses on just in time to see Ron fall sideways to the floor, still struggling with his socks. Harry chuckled lightly and got dressed for the day himself. As he was tugging his shirt over his head, there was a knock on their door.

            “Ron, your mum says breakfast is ready,” Hermione informed them.

            Ron leapt up from the floor, his struggle with his socks over. “Brilliant!” he called. He turned to Harry, grinning. “You ready for breakfast?”

            “Breakfast yes,” Harry said. “Reading more of that awful book? Hard no.”

            Ron snorted. “Fair enough, I suppose.” He pulled open the door as Harry tugged a clean shirt over his head. “Although mind you, it has certainly had its moments.”

            Harry scowled at Ron as they made their way into the kitchen.

            Molly had, unsurprisingly, Harry noted, gone all out on preparing breakfast. There was a large bowl nearly overflowing with scrambled eggs, two plates of bacon, bowls of fresh fruit, jugs of syrup, and in the center of the large table, a tower of pancakes.

            Ron fell into the nearest chair and began piling food onto his plate.

            Harry joined his friend at the table and pulled a couple pancakes onto his plate. He cut out a piece and chewed it slowly.

            Hermione and Malfoy were involved in a heated debate about the applications of Muggle science. Hermione was her standard persistent self that Muggle science was a branch of magic, because you certainly couldn’t call people walking on the moon anything but magical.

            “As if anyone could walk on the moon.” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “The Muggle government probably ran fake news stories on this ‘moon landing’ to convince the Muggle population that their technology was actually that advanced!”

            Hermione froze, her face pinched in disbelief.

            Malfoy turned to Snape for support, only to find that Snape was shaking his head at him. “Ms. Granger is right, Draco. The United States government sent Muggles to the moon.”

            “There is some argument that the astronauts from their NASA program weren’t all Muggle,” Lily added, spearing a piece of cantaloupe with her fork. “A lot of the calculations made to save the people aboard the Apollo 13 mission may not have been possible without magic.”

            Fred and George were huddled in a corner, whispering to each other through mouthfuls of bacon.

            Harry suspected they were planning something, but figured it best to tune out the people around him and focus on enjoying his breakfast, since it didn’t seem possible for the book to do anything other than sour the decent mood he was in.

 

            The group filtered into the reading room slowly, some bringing plates still full of food, others bringing mugs brimming with hot drinks.

            Harry, eager as ever to not read a bunch of stories about his life, was the last person to enter the reading room. He was without a plate or a mug, and he sank into the couch between Remus and Sirius, knees to his chest. “Can we get this over with?” he asked sourly.

            Ron snickered and picked up the book from the coffee table. “Who was next?”

            “I was,” George said, getting up to snatch the book from his brother’s hands. “ _Chapter six, The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.”_

“Finally!” James said, with the air of someone who had just completed a group project. “The trip to Hogwarts!”

            Lily elbowed him, eliciting a hiss of pain.

            “ _Harry’s last month with the Dursleys wasn’t fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of harry he wouldn’t stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn’t shut Harry in his cupboard, force him to do anything, or shout at him—in fact, they didn’t speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harry in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while._ ”

            “Why,” Hermione said slowly, “would that ever be depressing?”

            “Being completely ignored by the Dursleys made me feel as alone as them taking advantage of me being in their house and making my life miserable did,” Harry said stiffly. “The result was still complete loneliness.”

            Sirius made an odd noise, but otherwise no one elected to comment further.

            “ _Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting._ ”

            Harry found himself with a face full of pillow, thrown at him with an accompanying shout of “Traitor!” from Ron.

            “ _He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn’t come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first._

_On the last day of August he thought he’d better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King’s Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room._

_“Er—Uncle Vernon?”_

_Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening._

_“Er—I need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to—to go to Hogwarts.”_

_Uncle Vernon grunted again._

_“Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?”_

_Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes._

_“Thank you.”_

_He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke._

_“Funny way to get to a wizards’ school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?”_ ”

            “It is kind of strange, though,” Hermione mused. “What about all the students that live closer to Hogwarts than they do to King’s Cross? Why do they have to spend an entire day travelling in the wrong direction and then back again?”

            Dumbledore shrugged. “It’s just tradition, Ms. Granger.”

            Hermione frowned, but George, expecting an argument, quickly began reading again.

            “ _Harry didn’t say anything._

_“Where is this school, anyway?”_

_“I don’t know,” said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket._

_“I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o’clock,” he read._

_His aunt and uncle stared._

_“Platform what?”_

_“Nine and three-quarters.”_

_“Don’t talk rubbish,” said Uncle Vernon. “There is no platform nine and three-quarters.”_

_“It’s on my ticket.”_

_“Barking,” said Uncle Vernon, “howling mad, the lot of them. You’ll see. You just wait. All right, we’ll take you to King’s Cross. We’re going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn’t bother.”_

_“Why are you going to London?” Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly._

_“Taking Dudley to the hospital,” growled Uncle Vernon. “Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings.”_

_Harry woke at five o’clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn’t want to walk into the station in his wizard’s robes—he’d change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again—“_

“He’s making a list….” Ginny sang under her breath.

            “And checking it twice!” Fred continued, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear.

            Harry chucked the pillow Ron had thrown at him across the room. Fred dodged it with a laugh.

            “ _—to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. Two hours later, Harry’s huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Dursleys’ car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off._

_They reached King’s Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry’s trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face._

_“Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine—platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don’t seem to have built it yet, do they?”_

_He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all._ ”

            “Not like it would be in the middle, though,” Remus said. “It’s platform nine and three-quarters, which means it would be three-quarters of the way in between the two, not exactly halfway.”

            “Shut up, Remus,” James and Sirius groaned.

            “ _”Have a good term,” said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys driving away. All three of them were laughing. Harry’s mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He’d have to ask someone._ ”

            “Oh no.” Lily frowned “How did you get onto the platform?”

            “Don’t fret too much about it,” Molly said. “He made it onto the train just fine.” She smiled reassuringly at Lily.

            “ _He stopped a passing guard, but didn’t dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn’t even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o’clock, but the guard said there wasn’t one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters.”_

“There really should be someone stationed there to help Muggleborns,” Minerva said in an undertone to Dumbledore. The older wizard nodded thoughtfully.

            “ _Harry was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk he could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl._

_Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector’s stand between platforms nine and ten.”_

            Fudge muttered something under his breath while most of the room broke into a fit of laughter.

            “Now that would have been something,” Neville said.

            “ _At that moment a group of people passed just behind him and he caught a few words of what they were saying._

_“—packed with Muggles, of course—“_

_Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him—and they had an owl._

_Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying._

_“Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother.”_

George’s imitation of his mother’s voice was so uncanny that Fred had to place a hand over his heart to stop it from escaping his chest.

            “Stop that,” Fred whined.

            “ _”Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, “Mom, can’t I go…”_ ”

            Ginny’s face flushed. “I really hate you sometimes, Harry Potter,” she said.

            “ _”You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.”_

_What looked like the oldest boy marched towards platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it—but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished._

_“Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.”_

The next lines Fred and George said in unison, grinning devilishly.

            “ _”I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”_

_“Sorry, George, dear.”_

_“Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and off he went._ ”

            “Oh, I hate it when you two do that,” Molly snapped, although not even she could deny that she’d chuckled just moments before as the twins read.

            “ _His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later he was gone—but how had he done it?_

_Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier—he was almost there—and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere._

_There was nothing else for it._

_“Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman._

_“Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”_

_She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose._ ”

            Ron’s ears turned red, and he snatched up the pillow in Fred’s lap and chucked it back at Harry.

            Hermione laughed, until Ron said with a smirk, “Just you wait until he describes you.”

            “ _”Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is—the thing is, I don’t know how—“_

_“How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry nodded._

_“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”_

_“Er—okay,” said Harry._

_He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.”_

            “Nah, mate, that’s next year,” Ron snickered.

            “ _He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he’d be in trouble—leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run—the barrier was coming nearer and nearer—he wouldn’t be able to stop—the cart was out of control—he was a foot away—he closed his eyes ready for the crash—_

_It didn’t come…he kept on running…he opened his eyes._

_A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it._

_Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks._

_The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, “Gran, I’ve lost my toad again.”_

_“Oh, Neville,” he heard the old woman sigh._

_A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd._

_“Give us a look, Lee, go on.”_

_The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.”_

            Ron flinched and leaned away from the book, as if the spider might find a way to crawl through the vortex of time and out from the pages to attack him.

            Hermione shook her head.

            “ _Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot._

_“Want a hand?” It was one of the red-haired twins he’d followed through the barrier._

_“Yes, please,” Harry panted._

_“Oy, Fred! C’mere and help!”_

_With the twins’ help, Harry’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment._

_“Thanks,” said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes._

_“What’s that?” said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry’s lightning scar._

_“Blimey,” said the other twin. “Are you—?”_

_“He is,” said the first twin. “Aren’t you?” he added to Harry._

_“What?” said Harry._

_“Harry Potter,” chorused the twins._

_“Oh, him,” said Harry.”_

            Harry’s face turned a bright shade of red as the occupants of the room burst into laughter. “It’s not that funny!” he protested.

            “It’s very funny,” Sirius assured him, wiping at his eyes.

            Harry crossed his arms and leaned back, his eyes narrowed.

            “Sorry, mate, it’s pretty funny,” George said. “ _”I mean, yes, I am.”_

_The two boys gawked at him, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to his relief, a voice came floating in through the train’s open door._

_“Fred? George? Are you there?”_

_“Coming, Mom.”_

_With a last look at Harry, the twins hooped off the train._

_Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief._

_“Ron, you’ve got something on your nose.”_

_The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose._

_“Mom—geroff.” He wriggled free._

_“Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?” saud one of the twins._

_“Shut up,” said Ron._

_“Where’s Percy?” said their mother.”_

            “Who cares?” Ginny responded, shooting a vicious glare in the direction of her estranged brother.

            “ _”He’s coming now.”_

_The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a shiny silver badge on his chest with the letter P on it._

_“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves—“_

            “Prat,” Fred snapped.

            Percy scowled and opened his mouth, but a pillow in his face, courtesy of Ginny, left him red-faced and narrow eyed, but mercifully silent.

            “ _”Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?” said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea.”_

_“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” said the other twin. “Once—“_

_“Or twice—“_

_“A minute—“_

_“All summer—“_

_“Oh, shut up,” said Percy the Prefect._

_“How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?” said one of the twins._

_“Because he’s a prefect,” said their mother fondly. “All right, dear, well, have a good term—send me an owl when you get there.”_

_She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins._

_“Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve—you’ve blown up a toilet or—“_

_“Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.”_

_“Great idea, though, thanks, Mom.”_

_“It’s not funny. And look after Ron.”_

_“Don’t worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us.”_

_“Shut up,” said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it._

_“Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?”_

_Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn’t see him looking.”_

            “Why were you watching anyways?” Ron asked.

            Harry, somehow, managed to avoid looking at anyone as he answered. “I wanted to see more of how a real family worked.”

            “Harry—“ Sirius started, but a glare from said young wizard made him reconsider.

            “ _”You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?”_

_“Who?”_

_“Harry Potter!”_

_Harry heard the little girl’s voice._

_“Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please….”_ ”

            Ginny turned a vivid red. “You’re the worst, Harry,” she said.

            “ _”You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?”_

_“Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s really there—like lightning.”_

_“Poor dear—no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.”_

_“Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”_ ”

            “Yes,” Harry said darkly.

            “ _Their mother suddenly became very stern._

_“I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don’t you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school.”_

_“All right, keep your hair on.”_

_A whistle sounded._

_“Hurry up!” their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry._

_“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.”_

_“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat.”_ ”

            “I never did get that,” Ginny accused George.

            He grinned. “It went to a better cause, I promise.”

            “ _”George!”_

_“Only joking, Mom.”_

_The train began to move. Harry saw the boys’ mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved._

_Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn’t know what he was going to—but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind._

_The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest red-headed boy came in._

_“Anyone sitting there?” he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. “Everywhere else is full.”_

_Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn’t looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose._

_“Hey, Ron.”_

_The twins were back._

_“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train—Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”_

_“Right,” mumbled Ron._

_“Harry,” said the other twin, “did we introduce ourselves?”_ ”

            “No,” Harry responded. “Not that you really needed to.”

            “ _”Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”_

_“Bye,” said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them._

_“Are you really Harry Potter?” Ron blurted out._

_Harry nodded._

_“Oh—well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George’s jokes,” said Ron. “And have you really got—you know…”_

_He pointed at Harry’s forehead._

_Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared._

_“So that’s where You-Know-Who—?”_

_“Yes,” said Harry, “but I can’t remember it.”_

_“Nothing?” said Ron eagerly._

_“Well—I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.”_

_“Wow,” said Ron. He sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out the window again._

_“Are all your family wizards?” asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found him._

_“Er—yes, I think so,” said Ron. “I think Mom’s got a second cousin who’s an accountant, but we never talk about him.”_

_“So you must know loads of magic already.”_

_The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about._ ”

            The Weasleys and Malfoy all scoffed.

            Harry put his hands up in surrender. “We could just not read these,” he suggested. The only response he got was an eye roll from Hermione and George continuing to read.

            “ _”I heard you went to live with Muggles,” said Ron. “What are they like?”_

_“Horrible—well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I’d had three wizard brothers.”_

_“Five,” said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy.”_

            Ron shrank into his seat and avoided the curious gazes of his family.

            “ _”I’m the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I’ve got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have left already—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy’s a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good grades and everyone thinks they’re really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it’s no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”_

_Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep._

_“His name’s Scabbers and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made prefect, but they couldn’t aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead.”_ ”

            “Oh, Ron,” Molly started. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—“

            Fred and George were eyeing their brother as if they were seeing him for the first time.

            “Mom.” Ron was still trying to melt into the couch cushions. “It’s okay.”

            “Ron, it’s not—“

            “Mom!”

            “ _Ron’s ears went pink. He seemed to think he’d said too much, because he went back to staring out the window._

_Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he’d never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley’s old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up._

_“…and until Hagrid told me, I didn’t know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort—“_

_Ron gasped._

_“What?” said Harry._

_“You said You-Know-Who’s name!” said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. “I’d have thought you, of all people—“_

_“I’m not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name,” said Harry, “I just never knew you shouldn’t. See what I mean? I’ve got loads to learn…I bet,” he added, voicing for the first time something that had been bothering him a lot lately, “I bet I’m the worst in the class.”_

_“You won’t be. There’s loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough.”_

_While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past._

_Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, “Anything off the cart, dears?”_

_Harry, who hadn’t had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron’s ears went pink again and he muttered that he’d brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor._

_He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry.”_

            “What—“ Arthur began, but Molly shushed him, growing impatient.

            “ _But the woman didn’t have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts._

_Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat._

_“Hungry, are you?”_

_“Starving,” said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty._

_Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, “She always forgets I don’t like corned beef.”_

Molly, frowning, glanced over at Ron again. He remained as hidden in the couch as he could.

            “ _”Swap you for one of these,” said Harry, holding up a pasty. “Go on—“_

_“You don’t want this, it’s all dry,” said Ron. “She hasn’t got much time,” he added quickly, “you know, with five of us.”_

_“Go on, have a pasty,” said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ron, eating their way through all Harry’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).”_

“And thus was born a beautiful friendship,” Harry said.

            “I can’t wait to see how the two of you become friends with Hermione.” Lily’s eyes gleamed with interest.

            “Ah—“ said Hermione.

            Harry grimaced. “It’s certainly a more interesting story.”

            Minerva and Snape, looking back on it, both realized at relatively the same moment exactly what had led Ron and Harry to being friends with Hermione, and they both groaned.

            “ _”What are these?” Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. “They’re not really frogs, are they?” He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him._

_“No,” said Ron. “But see what the card is. I’m missing Agrippa.”_ ”

            “I still am,” Ron lamented.

            Remus smirked. “I’ve got five of Agrippa.”

            “Only because you live off of chocolate,” Sirius said, coughing sharply when Remus elbowed him.

            “ _”What?”_

_“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know—Chocolate Frogs have cards inside them, you know, to collect—famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”_

_Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man’s face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and a flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore._

_“So this is Dumbledore!” said Harry._

_“Don’t tell me you’d never heard of Dumbledore!” said Ron. “Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa—thanks—“_

_Harry turned over his card and read:_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._ ”

            “All that time!” Hermione moaned. “All that time and it was on the back of a stupid Chocolate Frog card!”

            “And to think I risked detention trying to find out,” Harry added. “Thank god for the cloak.”

            The confusion James was about to voice was diverted as what came out instead was, “You have the cloak?”

            Harry grinned at his dad. “I do.”

            “ _Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore’s face had disappeared._

_“He’s gone!”_

_“Well, you can’t expect him to hang around all day,” said Ron. “He’ll be back. No, I’ve got Morgana again and I’ve got about six of her….do you want it? You can start collecting.”_

_Ron’s eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped._

_“Help yourself,” said Harry. “But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos.”_

_“Do they? What, they don’t move at all?” Ron sounded amazed. “Weird!”_

_Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans._

_“You want to be careful with those,” Ron warned Harry. “When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor—you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he got a booger-flavored one once.”_ ”

            “I did,” George said, looking up from the book. His face was twisted in a grimace. “It was awful.” He shook his head free of the memory and returned to the text. “ _Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner._

_“Bleaaargh—see? Sprouts.”_

_They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn’t touch, which turned out to be pepper._

_The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills._

_There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Harry had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful._

_“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”_

_When they shook their heads, he wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”_

_“He’ll turn up,” said Harry._

_“Yes,” said the boy miserably. “Well, if you see him…”_

_He left._

_“Don’t know why he’s so bothered,” said Ron. “If I’d brought a toad I’d lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can’t talk.”_

_The rat was still snoozing on Ron’s lap._

_“He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference,” said Ron in disgust. “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look…”_

_He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end._

_“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out. Anyway—“_

_He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, btu this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes._

_“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth._ ”

            Ron snickered as Hermione turned red.

            “Harry!” she said indignantly.

            “I’m sorry!” Harry apologized. “I didn’t know my thoughts would ever be printed and sold for people to read for their own entertainment!”

            “ _”We’ve already told him we haven’t seen it,” said Ron, but the girl wasn’t listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand._

_“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it, then.”_

_She sat down. Ron looked taken aback._

_“Er—all right.”_

_He cleared his throat. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”_ ”

            The book slipped out of George’s hands as he howled with laughter. “I can’t believe you fell for that!”

            “You’re—so—gullible!” Fred choked out between bursts of his own laughter.

            “Shut up,” Ron snapped, his ears red.

            George took a few deep breaths, steadied himself, and read, “ _He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep._

_“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” said the girl. “Well, it’s not very good, is it? I’ve tried a few simple spells just for practice and it’s all worked for me. Nobody in my family’s magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it’s the very best school of witchcraft there is, I’ve heard—I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”_

George, having attempted to say this all in one breath, was now gasping for air.

            “Do you ever breathe?” Malfoy intoned.

            “No, never,” Hermione replied icily.

            “ _She said all this very fast,_ ” George read once he’d recovered. “ _Harry looked at Ron and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn’t learned all the course books by heart either._

_“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron muttered._

_“Harry Potter,” said Harry._

_“Are you really?” said Hermione. “I know all about you, of course—I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.”_

_“Am I?” said Harry, feeling dazed._

_“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” said Hermione. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad…. Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”_

_And she left, taking the toadless boy with her._

_“Whatever house I’m in, I hope she’s not in it,” said Ron._ ”

            Hermione’s face fell as George read this.

            “Ronald!” Molly’s voice was sharp and disapproving.

            “I’m sorry, honestly,” Ron said, his face beet red. “Besides, it’s not like I feel that way now.”

            Harry was overtaken by a very loud coughing fit. He smothered his face with a pillow to hide the smirk on his face as Ron glared at him.

            “For what it’s worth,” Malfoy spoke up, “I think you would have done quite well in any house, Granger.”

            The room fell silent.

            “Er—thanks,” Hermione said, her face pink.

            “ _He threw his wand back into his trunk. “Stupid spell—George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud.”_

_“What house are your brothers in?” asked Harry._

_“Gryffindor,” said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. “Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don’t know what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin._ ”

            “A Weasley in Slytherin?” Sirius chuckled. “That’ll be the day Minnie retires, no doubt about that.”

            Minerva’s nostrils flared. “I’ve no doubt you remember that I told you not to call me ‘Minnie’, Mr. Black.”

            “ _”That’s the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?”_

_“Yeah,” said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed._

_“You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’ whiskers are a bit lighter,” said Harry, trying to take Ron’s mind off houses. “So what do your oldest brothers do now that they’ve left, anyway?”_

_Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he’d finished school._

_“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts,” said Ron. “Did you hear about Gringotts? It’s been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don’t suppose you get that with the Muggles—someone tried to rob a high security vault.”_ ”

            “And it wasn’t me!” Harry exclaimed.

            “Harry,” Hermione said seriously, “if you ever do break into Gringotts, I sincerely hope that I do not go along with you.”

            “Does that mean I have to rescind the invitation I sent you to rob Gringotts when we get out of here?”

            “Yes.”

            “Damn,” Harry pouted.

            “ _Harry stared._

_“Really? What happened to them?”_

_“Nothing, that’s why it’s such big news. They haven’t been caught. My dad says it must’ve been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don’t think they took anything, that’s what’s odd. ‘Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.”_ ”

            “It was all right there!” Harry muffled his groan in the pillow.

            “What was?” Sirius asked.

            “You’ll see,” Harry said darkly. “S’not like it’s the plot of the entire book or anything, apparently.”

            “ _Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying “Voldemort” without worrying._

_“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked._

_“Er—I don’t know any,” Harry confessed._

_“What!” Ron looked dumbfounded. “Oh, you wait, it’s the best game in the world—“ And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he’d been to with his brothers and the broomstick he’d like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn’t Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time._

_Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once; it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin’s robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he’d shown back in Diagon Alley._ ”

            The only sign that Malfoy was reacting to this was the slight tinge of pink in his pale cheeks.

            “ _”Is it true?” he said. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”_

_“Yes,” said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards._ ”

            “Close enough,” Malfoy muttered.

            “ _”Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”_ ”

            “And I’m Bond, James Bond,” Hermione said with a small laugh.

            “What?” Malfoy asked.

            “It’s a Muggle thing.”

            Malfoy frowned. “Whatever, Granger.”

            “ _Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him._

_“Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”_ ”

            Malfoy found himself turning pink under the angry glares of six of the Weasleys. Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

            “ _He turned back to Harry,_ ” George eventually read, dropping his furious gaze back to the book. “ _”You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.”_

_He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it._

_“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he said coolly._

_Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks._

_“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them, either.”_ ”

            If Malfoy thought that the glares of six Weasleys had been bad, that was quickly changed as the majority of the room turned their fury on him.

            Before anyone else had a chance to speak, however, Amelia Bones spoke up. “Mr. Malfoy,” she said, her tone quiet, “I do understand that this occurred in the past. I do not, however, understand why saying that crossed your mind to begin with. Mr. Potter did not ask for You-Know-Who to target his family, to try to kill him. He did not ask to be made famous for surviving the attack on his family. And he certainly did not ask to be threatened by his fellow students on his first day of school. Whether or not he rejected your friendship does not condone what was said. Is that quite clear?”

            “Yes,” Malfoy said.

            “Then I believe we are done here.” Bones addressed this sentiment to the room as a whole. “Mr. Weasley, if you would please continue.”

            The room buzzed with a tense and angry energy.

            George nodded. “ _”You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.”_

_Both Harry and Ron stood up._

_“Say that again,” Ron said, his face as red as his hair._

_“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered._

_“Unless you get out now,” said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron._

_“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our food and you still seem to have some.”_

_Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frog next to Ron—Ron leapt forward, but before he’d so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell._

_Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle’s knuckle—Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once._ ”

            “Most useful thing that rat ever did,” Sirius hissed.

_“Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they’d heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in._

_“What has been going on?” she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail._

_“I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. “No—I don’t believe it—he’s gone back to sleep.”_

_And so he had._

_“You’ve met Malfoy before?”_

_Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley._

_“I’ve heard of his family,” said Ron darkly. “They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they’d been bewitched. My dad doesn’t believe it. He says Malfoy’s father didn’t need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side.” He turned to Hermione. “Can we help you with something?”_

_“You’d better hurry up and put your robes on, I’ve just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we’re nearly there. You haven’t been fighting, have you? You’ll be in trouble before we even get there!”_

_“Scabbers has been fighting, not us,” said Ron, scowling at her. “Would you mind leaving while we change?”_

_“All right—I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors,” said Hermione in a sniffy voice. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?”_

_Ron glared at her as she left._ ”

            “How did you three become friends?” Remus asked, incredulous.

            “Long story,” Harry said.

            “ _Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down._

_He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron’s were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them._

_A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”_

_Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor._

_The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”_

_Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads._

_“C’mon, follow me—any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”_

_Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice._

_“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”_

_There was a loud “Oooooh!”_

_The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers._ ”

            “It really is a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Lily asked, a small smile on her face.

            There were murmurs of agreement, memories of seeing Hogwarts for the first time mellowing out the anger that still lingered.

            “ _”No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione._

_“Everyone in?” shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. “Right then—FORWARD!”_

_And the fleet of little bats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood._

_“Heads down!” yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles._

_“Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them._

_“Trevor!” cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle._

_They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded the huge, oak front door._

_“Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?”_

_Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.”_

            There was silence for a moment.

            “Er—that’s it,” George said, closing the book.

            “So we get to hear about the Sorting next, then?” James rubbed his hands together eagerly. “We get to hear what the Hat said to Harry?”

            Harry groaned. “Do we have to?”

            “Yes, Mr. Potter, I’m afraid so,” Minerva said. She took the book from George and opened it. “ _Chapter seven, The Sorting Hat…._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I previously gave a shout-out to my friends for being the real MVPs of my authorial process and it's still real true. You guys put up with so much from me, from half-baked unfinished rambling posts to Snapchats of me and research I Absolutely Do Not Need To Do. I couldn't do this without you guys.
> 
> Speaking of research I Absolutely Do Not Need To Do, I know far too much about in-ear monitors now than I ever needed to because of one fic I wrote and I could probably include that in this fic, but I actually like not driving myself crazy, surprising probably everyone. But don't be surprised if you see things I have No Right to be knowledgable on, like ancient Roman punishments, because I do in fact procrastinate by researching things.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	10. The Sorting Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            Harry groaned. “Do we have to?”

            “Yes, Mr. Potter, I’m afraid so,” Minerva said. She took the book from George and opened it. “Chapter seven, _The Sorting Hat_ ….”

 

Now:

 

            “ _The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross._ ”

            “You’d be right about that,” James snickered.

            “ _”The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid._

_“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”_

_She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys’ house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors._

_They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right—the rest of the school must already be here—but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously._

_“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room._ ”

            “I can’t recall the last time the majority of the students spent their free time in the common rooms,” Remus mused.

            “It’s either outside, or somewhere else in the castle,” Sirius agreed.

            Minerva silenced the pair with a brief glance. “ _”The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours._

_“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”_ ”

            “That’s almost verbatim what you said to us,” Lily said.

            “I try to impress the same message upon each group of first years,” Minerva said. “I find that using relatively the same speech at the beginning of each term helps.”

            “Ah.”

            “ _Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair._

_“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”_

_She left the chamber. Harry swallowed._

_“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” he asked Ron._

_“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”_ ”

            “Fredrick Weasley!” Molly snapped.

            Fred ceased his quiet laughter and held his hands up in surrender. “This was years ago!”

            Molly huffed, but fell silent.

            “ _Harry’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But he didn’t know any magic yet—what on earth would he have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He’d never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teacher’s wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom._ ”

            Neville snorted. “Jesus, Harry, not everything that happens is going to be bad.”

            “Better to be prepared.” Harry shrugged.

            “ _Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air—several people behind him screamed._ ”

            “What?” James demanded, looking horrified. His son had only just gotten to Hogwarts and he was already facing danger—

            “It’s probably just the ghosts,” Remus said, glancing over at his dead friend.

            “Oh.” James took a steadying breath and relaxed. “Right.”

            “ _”What the—?”_

_He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—“_

_“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?”_

_A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years._

_Nobody answered._

_“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?”_

_A few people nodded mutely._

_“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”_

_“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”_

_Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall._

_“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first years, “and follow me.”_

_Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall._

_Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets._ ”

            “It’s a beautiful sight,” Ginny agreed.

            “ _At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver._ ”

            “All the lights are misty in the river,” Hermione sang quietly.

            “What?” said Ron.

            “Oh, just—it’s a musical.”

            “What’s a musical?” Ron asked.

            Hermione just shook her head.

            “ _Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harry looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.”_

_It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on to the heavens._

_Harry quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t have let it in the house._

_Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harry thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing—noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing._ ”

            “C’mon, Minnie, sing!” Sirius cheered.

            “No,” Minerva said, her tone firm.

            “Please?” Sirius tried.

            Minerva rolled her eyes and read:

            “ _Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,_

_But don’t judge on what you see,_

_I’ll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There’s nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can’t see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you’ve a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You’ll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don’t be afraid!_

_And don’t get in a flap!_

_You’re in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I’m a Thinking Cap!”_

_The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again._

_“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Ron whispered to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”_ ”

            Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at each other, smiles appearing on their faces.

            “What?” Fred asked.

            “Nothing,” the trio chorused.

            “ _Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn’t feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him._ ”

            “That would be the house for everyone, Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled.

            “Severus,” Dumbledore said quietly.

            Snape sneered at the Headmaster, but allowed Minerva to continue reading.

            “ _Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment._

_“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,”_

_A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause—_

_“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat._

_The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her._

_“Bones, Susan!”_ ”

            Amelia sat up a little straighter, a minute smile crossing her face.

            “ _”HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah._

_“Boot, Terry!”_

_“RAVENCLAW!”_

_The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them._

_“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron’s twin brothers catcalling._ ”

            Molly frowned at the twins, who grinned sheepishly.

            “ _”Bulstrode, Millicent” then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry’s imagination, after all he’d heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot._

_He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him._

_“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”_

_“HUFFLEPUFF!”_

_Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. “Finnigan, Seamus,” the sandy-haired boy next to hair in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor._

_“Granger, Hermione!”_

_Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head._

_“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat. Ron groaned._ ”

            Hermione frowned as Ron flinched.

            “Er—sorry,” Ron said quietly.

            “ _A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you’re very nervous. What if he wasn’t chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he’d better get back on the train?_ ”

            In spite of herself, Minerva stopped reading for a moment to eye her student over the book. “That would never happen, Mr. Potter,” she said.

            “I know,” Harry muttered, his face red.

            “ _When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville._ ”

            “I kept begging the hat to put me in Hufflepuff,” Neville admitted. “I thought there was no way I could be brave enough to be in Gryffindor.”

            “Aw, Neville, you’re the bravest out of all of us,” Fred said.

            “ _When it finally shouted, “GRYFFINDOR,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag.”_

_Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”_

_Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself._

_There weren’t many people left now._

_“Moon”…, “Nott”…, “Parkinson”…, then a pair of twin girls, “Patil” and “Patil”…, then “Perks, Sally-Anne”…, and then, at last—_

_“Potter, Harry!”_

_As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall._

_“Potter, did she say?”_

_“The Harry Potter?”_ ”

            “No, sorry, it’s Harvey,” Harry said, smirking.

            The occupants of the room groaned.

            “ _The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited._

_“Hmm,” said a small voice in his ear. “Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There’s talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that’s interesting…. So where shall I put you?”_

_Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin._

_“Not Slytherin, eh?” said the small voice. “Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—no? Well, if you’re sure—better be GRYFFINDOR!”_ ”

            The room grew oddly quiet. Harry sank back into the couch and squeezed his eyes shut.

            It was Snape who broke the silence. “You could have been in Slytherin, Potter?” His question was meant to sound cool and detached, but his voice was weak with shock.

            “Harry?” That was Ron, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

            “Yes,” Harry said dully, his eyes still closed. His response broke the hold that was on the room, and a flurry of questions and accusations burst forth.

            “Potter, in Slytherin?”

            “James’ son in Slytherin sure would be a sight to see.”

            “That would have made second year more interesting!”

            Fudge eventually stood up and pointed a trembling finger in Harry’s direction. “You see?” he said, jabbing the air with each word. “Potter was almost a Slytherin! This is proof! He’s dark and dangerous, and—“

            “SHUT UP!” Harry yelled, jumping up from the couch, clenching his hands tightly at his sides. “Shut up! All of you! I don’t want to be here any more than the rest of you, and the more you keep saying stupid things over what’s happened in the past, the longer we will all be here!”

            Every pair of eyes was on Harry.

            “Yes,” he said, “I was almost in Slytherin. It’s as big a deal as me being a Parselmouth, and sleeping in a cupboard, and all of it! So please just shut up so we can get through this,” he finished, glaring around the room.

            Fudge snarled and made to move forward, but Amelia yanked him back onto the couch. “Enough, Minister,” she warned him. “Mr. Potter is right.”

            When no one else stepped up to speak, Minerva continued, “ _Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water._

_He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him a thumbs up. Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he’d gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotter Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large turban._ ”

            “Should have seen it then,” Harry muttered, narrowing his eyes at the book.

            “ _And now there were only three people left to be sorted. “Thomas, Dean,” a black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!”_

_Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him._

_“Well done, Ron, excellent,” said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away._ ”

            “That was everyone?” James asked in disbelief. “How many…how many people died, to make the group so small?”

            “Too many,” Dumbledore said.

            “ _Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago._

_Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there._

_“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin out banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”_

_“Thank you!”_

_He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or not._

_“Is he—a bit mad?” he asked Percy uncertainly._ ”

            “Yes,” Percy said, glowering at his former Headmaster from where he sat.

            “Shut up, Percy,” the three other Weasley children said.

            “ _”Mad?” said Percy airily. “He’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?”_

_Harry’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs._ ”

            Ron’s stomach growled, making him blush.

            “ _The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry—“_

            Harry smirked triumphantly at this, making his parents, Remus, and Sirius all frown.

            “ _—but he’d never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious._

_“That does look good,” said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak._

_“Can’t you—?”_

_“I haven’t eaten for nearly four hundred years,” said the ghost. “I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”_

_“I know who you are!” said Ron suddenly. “My brothers told me about you—you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”_

_“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy—“ the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted._

_“Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”_

_Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted._ ”

            “Oh, it was,” James said.

            “ _”Like this,” he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking please at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So—new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable—he’s the Slytherin ghost.”_

_Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood._ ”

            “I’ve always wanted to know how he died,” Sirius said.

            “I know.” It was the first time in a while that Regulus had spoken.

            “What?” Sirius rounded on his younger brother. “How did he die?”

            “I promised not to tell,” Regulus said with a smirk.

            “I bet Harry finds out, though.” That was Neville. “He has a knack for learning the secrets in Hogwarts.”

            “I’ll take you up on that bet,” Sirius said. “Three Sickles?”

            “Deal.”

            “ _He was right next to Malfoy who, Harry was pleased to see, didn’t look too pleased with the seating arrangements._

_“How did he get covered in blood?” asked Seamus with great interest._

_“I’ve never asked,” said Nearly Headless Nick delicately._

_When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate elairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding…._

_As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families._

_“I’m half-and-half,” said Seamus. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom didn’t tell him she was a witch ‘til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”_

_The others laughed._ ”

            “That’s nothing to laugh about,” Snape said coldly. “There is every chance that could have ended badly.”

            Lily frowned at her former friend, though she stayed silent.

            “ _”What about you, Neville?” said Ron._

_“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” said Neville, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me—he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned—but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced—all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here—they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”_

_On Harry’s other side, Percy Weasley and Hermione were talking about lessons (“I do hope they start right away, there’s so much to learn, I’m particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it’s supposed to be very difficult—“; “You’ll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing—“)._

_Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin._ ”

            The twins snickered. “Spot on description, Harry.”

            Snape leveled his gaze at the twins, but this only made them laugh harder.

            “ _It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell’s turban straight into Harry’s eyes—and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry’s forehead._ ”

            “It wasn’t me!” Snape protested when Lily fixed him with a furious stare.

            “Then who was it?” she demanded.

            “You’ll find out soon, Mom,” Harry said, trying and failing not to laugh as Snape cowered next to Lily.

            “ _”Ouch!” Harry clapped a hand to his head._

_“What is it?” asked Percy._

_“N-nothing.”_

_The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher’s look—a feeling that he didn’t like Harry at all._ ”

            The anger in Lily’s eyes turned to disappointment as she turned in her seat to face Snape. “Just because he is James’ son doesn’t mean you get to hate him, Severus,” she said coolly. “He’s not his father, though I doubt you’ve realized that in the time since he’s started at Hogwarts.”

            “ _”Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked Percy._

_“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he’s looking so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to—everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”_

_Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn’t look at him again._

_At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent._

_“Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you._

_“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”_

_Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins._ ”

            Molly huffed and crossed her arms, already planning a lecture for Fred and George.

            This action did not pass by the twins, who glanced at each other and then back to their mother, paling.

            “ _”I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors._

_“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch._

_“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”_ ”

            “What?” The question was asked by all who had not been present at Hogwarts at the time.

            “You’ll see,” responded those who had been at Hogwarts, all in varying tones.

            “ _Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did._

_“He’s not serious?” he muttered to Percy._

_“Must be,” said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere—the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least.”_

_“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed._ ”

            “Do you not enjoy the school song?” Dumbledore asked Minerva and Snape quite sadly.

            “Ah—no, it’s brilliant, Albus,” Minerva assured with a quick smile.

            Snape nodded in agreement. “It’s my favorite part of the start-of-term feast,” he added.

            “Oh, good!” Dumbledore said, grinning.

            Minerva cleared her throat awkwardly and read, “ _Dumbledore gave his wand a flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words._

_“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”_

_And the school bellowed:_

_“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they’re bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we’ve forgot,_

_Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot.”_

_Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march._ ”

            Fred and George grinned.

            “ _Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest._

_“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”_

_The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harry’s legs were like lead again, but only because he was so tired and full of food. He was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt._

_A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him._ ”

            “Which was nothing less than he deserved,” Ginny said icily.

            “Too true,” Ron agreed.

            “ _”Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first years. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves—show yourself.”_

_A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered._

_“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”_

_There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks._

_“Oooooooh!” he said, with an evil cackle. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!”_

_He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked._

_“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” barked Percy._

_Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville’s head._ ”

            “Which hurt, by the way,” Neville added.

            “ _They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed._

_“You want to watch out for Peeves,” said Percy, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us prefects. Here we are.”_

_At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress._

_“Password?” she said._

_“Caput Draconis,” said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it—Neville needed a leg up—and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs._

_Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of the spiral staircase—they were obviously in one of the towers—they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed._

_“Great food, isn’t it?” Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. “Get off, Scabbers! He’s chewing my sheets.”_

_Harry was going to ask Ron if he’d had any of the treacle tart, but he fell asleep almost at once._ ”

            “Nah, mate, sorry,” Ron snickered. “I’m not a fan of treacle tarts.”

            “Traitor!” Harry gasped dramatically, his hand placed over his heart.

            Hermione shook her head, smiling.

            “ _Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell’s turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn’t want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully—and there was Malfoy, laughing at him as he struggled with it—then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, whose laugh became high and cold—there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking._

_He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn’t remember the dream at all._ ”

            “What an odd dream,” Remus said. “I wonder what it means?”

            “Nothing, apparently, if I forgot it.” Harry shrugged.

            “Well,” Minerva said, passing the book to Dumbledore, “that was the end of the chapter.”

            “Wait!” Ron said. “Before we start the next one—Hagrid, what house were you in?”

            The half-giant grinned sheepishly. “Slytherin,” he admitted.

            “What? No way.”

            “Why did you get kicked out of school, Hagrid?” That was Sirius.

            Hagrid ignored him, making a show of straightening his sleeves.

            “Are we ready?” Dumbledore asked. “Good. _Chapter eight, The Potions Master…._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD, this is the chapter I wrote in January of 2018 when I saw the screening of the Death Cure and met James Dashner and sobbed over Newt and started on a journey that made me so many new friends and gave me so many ideas!!!
> 
> It's been over a year now since I saw the Death Cure for the first time and I still cry over it and I still cry over Newt and I'm still FURIOUS because he didn't deserve that fate. And yet here I am, writing mostly stories about it that focus on him dying or being dead.
> 
> What can I say, I'm a sucker for angst.
> 
> I'm also a sucker for a good at first glance adaption of Les Mis, so hello I loved the BBC Les Mis. And I still can't believe that Hermione names her kid after French author Victor Hugo who loved the Parisian sewer systems and because of that somehow spawned the great sea of the Les Mis fandom, that raises it's head on occasion and swallows more people.
> 
> I also know that's not why he wrote Les Mis.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	11. The Potions Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            “Why did you get kicked out of school, Hagrid?” That was Sirius.

            Hagrid ignored him, making a show of straightening his sleeves.

            “Are we ready?” Dumbledore asked. “Good. _Chapter eight, The Potions Master…._ ”

 

Now:

 

            Any laughter that may have broken out at the chapter title was quelled by the murderous look that had taken root on Snape’s face.

            Dumbledore shook his head and began, “ _”There, look.”_

_“Where?”_

_“Next to the tall kid with the red hair.”_

_“Wearing the glasses?”_

_“Did you see his face?”_

_“Did you see his scar?”_

_Whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry wished they wouldn’t, because he was trying to concentrate on finding his way to classes._ ”

            “It really was distracting,” Harry sighed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose, disgruntled.

            “ _There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk._

_The ghosts didn’t help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, “GOT YOUR CONK!”_ ”

            Lily was doubled over laughing, and James was shaking his head.

            “I—taught—him—that—“ Lily said, gasping for breath. She wiped a tear from her eye. “I used that on James once when he was being obnoxious, and Peeves picked up on it.”

            “Really?” Harry asked, his eyes glinting with excitement.

            Lily only nodded, having dissolved once more into laughter.

            Harry grinned and leaned back, his eyes on the ceiling as he imagined his mother teasing his father.

            “ _Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Argus Filch. Harry and Ron managed to get on the wrong side of him on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor._ ”

            Sirius snorted. “I’m sure it was just bad luck.”

            “It was!” Ron said defiantly.

            “Yeah,” Harry agreed, “we didn’t intentionally go there the first time.”

            “Oh,” Sirius said. “Good.”

            There was a beat of silence.

            “Wait. First time?”

            “ _He wouldn’t believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing._ ”

            “I never thought I’d say this,” said Ron, “but thank god for Quirrell.”

            “Yeah, no,” Harry said. “It’s still bad.

            “Yeah….” Ron agreed, shaking his head.

            “ _Filch owned a cat called Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamplike eyes just like Filch’s. She patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of her, put just one toe out of line—_ “

            “And we’ll bring you straight home!” Ginny burst out rather loudly.

            Molly blushed a deep red as those who had been present at the time of her now infamous Howler broke out laughing.

            “— _and she’d whisk off for Filch, who’d appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Weasley twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated him, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mrs. Norris a good kick._ ”

            “I did once,” Regulus commented, examining his fingernails.

            Sirius rounded on his brother. “No way.”

            “Way.”

            “When? How?” Sirius demanded.

            “Carefully, that’s how,” Regulus said. “I’ll tell you later.”

            “I’m holding you to that.”

            “ _And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words._

_They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for._

_Easily the most boring class as History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up the next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up._ ”

            “Why do we still have Professor Binns teaching?” Minerva wondered, turning to face Dumbledore.

            “Employment of ghosts isn’t covered under Ministry laws, Dumbledore!” Fudge agreed, his jaw quivering as he stared at the man.

            “No, I suppose it isn’t,” Dumbledore said. “I’m sure, Minister, that a discussion about the employment of Professor Binns can wait? I do believe you were the one who originally encouraged us to get this over with.”

            Fudge opened and closed his mouth, his eyes ablaze with fury, but he had no response.

            “Excellent.” Dumbledore turned his attention back to the book. “ _Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Harry’s name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight._

_Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry had been quite right to think she wasn’t a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class._

_“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned.”_ ”

            “You let me come back, Minnie,” James said.

            Minerva bristled at the nickname, her eyes narrowing, but she couldn’t deny it. “Yes I did, Mr. Potter,” she said, “but only because you were one of the more exceptional students in the class.”

            “Are you sure it wasn’t because you liked me?” James asked her with a teasing smile.

            She tried to frown, but instead shook her head while smiling. “Don’t push your luck, Mr. Potter.”

            “ _Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermione Granger had made any difference to her match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and gave Hermione a rare smile._

_The class everyone had been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell’s lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren’t sure they believed this story._ ”

            “’S better than the real story,” Harry mumbled.

            Remus cast him a concerned look, but Harry waved it away.

            “ _For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went._

_Harry was very relieved to find out that he wasn’t miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like him, hadn’t had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ron didn’t have much of a head start._

_Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost._ ”

            “Congratulations!” Fred and George cheered.

            “ _”What have we got today?” Harry asked Ron as he poured sugar on his porridge._

_“Double Potions with the Slytherins,” said Ron. “Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them—we’ll be able to see if it’s true.”_

_“Wish McGonagall favored us,” said Harry._ ”

            “She does,” chorused the Slytherins.

            Minerva sighed.

            “It’s true,” Amelia spoke up. “You do.”

            “What house were you?” Hermione asked.

            “Hufflepuff,” Amelia said. “Same as my niece.”

            “ _Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn’t stopped her from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before._

_Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps._

_Hedwig hadn’t brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry’s plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:_

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

_Harry borrowed Ron’s quill, scribbled, Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again._

_It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far._ ”

            Snape froze. Lily noticed this and narrowed her eyes.

            “ _At the start-of-term banquet, Harry had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he’d been wrong. Snape didn’t dislike Harry—he hated him._ ”

            Lily’s breath came out in a disappointed hiss.

            “ _Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls._

_Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry’s name._

_“Ah, yes,” he said softly. “Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity.”_ ”

            In spite of himself, Snape tensed in fear when he heard the quiet sound of Lily grinding her teeth together.

            “Severus,” she said warningly, “that better have been it.”

            Snape winced.

            “ _Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid’s, but they had none of Hagrid’s warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels._

_“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making,” he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”_ ”

            Lily glared at Snape, and she wasn’t the only one. Amelia, Minerva, Remus, and Dumbledore were also giving Snape less than happy glances.

            “We will discuss your approach of teaching later,” Dumbledore said. It wasn’t a request.

            Snape nodded. The only sign that he was uncomfortable was in the slight twitch of his hands.

            “ _More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn’t a dunderhead._

_“Potter!” said Snape suddenly. “What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”_ ”

            “That’s not a first year question,” Remus said mildly, though his eyes were narrowed at the book. “That’s something you learn in your sixth year.”

            “ _Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione’s hand had shot into the air._

_“I don’t know, sir,” said Harry._

_Snape’s lips curled into a sneer._

_“Tut, tut—fame clearly isn’t everything.”_ ”

            Lily shot Snape another furious glance.

            “ _He ignored Hermione’s hand._

_“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”_ ”

            Remus frowned. “That’s not a first year question,” he repeated.

            “ _Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go without her leaving her seat, but Harry didn’t have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter._

_“I don’t know, sir.”_

_“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?”_

_Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. He had looked through his books at the Dursleys’, but did Snape expect him to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi?_

_Snape was still ignoring Hermione’s quivering hand._

_“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”_ ”

            “That’s a trick question,” Lily said angrily, “and not a first year question. What are you playing at, Severus?”

            “I—“ Snape tried to answer, but his voice failed him. He cringed, and avoided looking at the furious red-head next to him.

            “ _At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling._

_“I don’t know,” said Harry quietly. “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”_

_A few people laughed; Harry caught Seamus’s eye, and Seamus winked. Snape, however, was not pleased._

_“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”_ ”

            “Because you didn’t ask them to!” Lily snapped. Her anger had very nearly hit the boiling point.

            “ _There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, “And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter.”_

_Things didn’t improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people’s shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools whole Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs._

_“Idiot boy!” snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand._ ”

            Lily’s fury put her beyond words. Her fingernails were biting into the flesh of her palms.

            “No wonder Mr. Longbottom is failing potions,” Minerva said, her eyes flashing with anger. “That is no way to treat a student, Severus!”

            Despite being 35 years old, Snape felt himself flinching away from Minerva as if he was a small child.

            “Do you have nothing to say to defend your behavior, Professor Snape?” Amelia asked.

            “I call out behavior as I see it,” he snapped.

            It wasn’t the right answer. Lily bristled next to him. Minerva’s nostrils flared, and Amelia shook her head, her eyes showing her disappointment.

            Dumbledore studied Snape over the top of the book for a long moment before he continued, “ _”I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?”_

_Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose._

_“Take him up to the hospital wing,” Snape spat at Seamus. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to Neville._

_“You—Potter—why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That’s another point you’ve lost for Gryffindor.”_ ”

            “Excuse us for a moment,” Lily said through her teeth. Heads swiveled to face her in surprise. She got to her feet, shaking with anger, and dragged Snape out of the room by the neck of his cloak. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the rest of the room in a stunned silence.

 

            Lily paced the hallway for several minutes, unsure of what to say. Eventually, she rounded on Snape.

            “What the hell, Severus?”

            Snape flinched as her anger broke over him. He didn’t answer.

            “What the hell, Severus?” she repeated. “Do you have anything you want to say for yourself? Or are you going to stand there, gaping like a fish?”

            “What do you want me to say?” he hissed.

            “What do I want—what do I want you to say? You could try starting with a reason for you treating your students that way! That would be a great start! Or, if you’re brave, you could explain to me why it is you hate my son so much that you would blame him for the mistakes of another student! Or maybe, Severus, maybe you could tell me why it is you hate my son!”

            “I don’t—“

            “Yes you do,” Lily snarled. “Yes, you do know. You know exactly why. Don’t lie to me.”

            “That’s not what I was going to say,” Snape said, bristling. “I know better than that.”

            “Do you, Severus? Do you?”

            That hurt. Snape scowled at Lily. “I should hope that after living fourteen more years than you have, that I do in fact know better.”

            Lily grew very still, her eyes narrowing. The two stood there for another moment, each challenging the other. Very suddenly, Lily drew back her hand and slapped Snape. Then, with a turn of her heel and an aggravated sigh, she walked back into reading room.

            Snape followed shortly after, gingerly pressing his fingers to the red mark on his face, silent. He took his seat.

            “This isn’t over, Severus.” Lily’s voice was cold. Snape flinched.

            “Shall we continue then?” Dumbledore questioned the room. He was met with silence. “Excellent. _This was so unfair that Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ron kicked him behind their cauldron._

_“Don’t push it,” he muttered. “I’ve heard Snape can turn very nasty.”_

_As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harry’s mind was racing and his spirits were low. He’d lost two points for Gryffindor in his very first week._ ”

            “Nothing compared to what we’d lose later,” Neville said.

            Harry snorted.

            “ _Why did Snape hate him so much?_

_“Cheer up,” said Ron, “Snape’s always taking points off Fred and George. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?”_

_At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door._

_When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid’s voice rang out, saying, “Back Fang—back.”_

_Hagrid’s big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open._

_“Hang on,” he said. “Back, Fang.”_

_He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound._

_There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it._

_“Make yerselves at home,” said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked._ ”

            “No, it’s just the ones with cute names you have to look out for,” Hermione muttered to Ron.

            “ _”This is Ron,” Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes on a plate._

_“Another Weasley, eh?” said Hagrid, glancing at Ron’s freckles. “I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.”_ ”

            Fred and George shrank away from Molly’s stare.

            “ _The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Ron pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry’s knee and drooled all over his robes._

_Harry and Ron were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch “that old git.”_

_“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her—Filch puts her up to it.”_

_Harry told Hagrid about Snape’s lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students._

_“But he seemed to really hate me.”_

_“Rubbish!” said Hagrid. “Why should he?”_ ”

            “Because of me,” James said, his tone sour. He leaned forward and glanced over at Harry. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

            Harry waved this apology off. “It’s fine.”

            “ _Yet Harry couldn’t help thinking that Hagrid didn’t quite meet his eyes when he said that._

_“How’s yer brother Charlie?” Hagrid asked Ron. “I liked him a lot—great with animals.”_

_Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie’s work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:_

_Gringotts Break In Latest_

_Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

_Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_“But we’re not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what’s good for you,” said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._ ”

            “Yeah, Harry, keep your nose out of it,” Neville, Ron, and Hermione all said at the same time.

            Harry scowled at his friends. “Shut up.”

            “ _Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn’t mentioned the date._

_“Hagrid!” said Harry, “that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might’ve been happening while we were there!”_

_There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn’t meet Harry’s eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?_

_As Harry and Ron walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they’d been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he’d had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn’t want to tell Harry?_ ” Dumbledore closed the book and idly set it on his leg.

            “That’s the end of the chapter,” he announced. “Who’s next?”

            “I am,” Remus said, reaching out to take the book from him. “What’s the next chapter? _Chapter nine, The Midnight Duel….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the chapter I posted a year ago oh MAN.
> 
> Like I said last time, everything happens at all times and never stops. I'd like to get off this wild ride thanks!
> 
> But I also wouldn't give this life up for a damn thing except maybe a chance to do it over. This life is pretty good.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	12. The Midnight Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

Dumbledore closed the book and idly set it on his leg.

“That’s the end of the chapter,” he announced. “Who’s next?”

“I am,” Remus said, reaching out to take the book from him. “What’s the next chapter? _Chapter nine, The Midnight Duel….”_

Now:

 

“The midnight duel?” Molly and Lily asked in unison.

Sirius threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Looks like you’re in trouble now, kid.”

Harry huffed.

“ _Harry had never believed he would meet a boy he hated more than Dudley, but that was before he met Draco Malfoy,_ ” Remus began.

Draco shifted in his seat, his face turning slightly pink.

“ _Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn’t have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn’t until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday—and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together._

 _“Typical,” said Harry darkly. “Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”_ ”

“You can’t be that bad at flying!” James protested. “It’s in your genes to be a decent flyer.”

“I’m actually pretty terrible at flying,” Harry said quickly, before anyone else could respond. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Sirius found himself coughing rather harshly.

“Really?” James asked, his face falling slightly in disappointment.

Harry shrugged.

Remus continued reading, his voice strained slightly with barely contained laughter. “ _He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else._

 _“You don’t know that you’ll make a fool of yourself,” said Ron reasonably. “Anyway, I know Malfoy’s always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that’s all talk.”_ ”

“It is,” Ron reassured. “Don’t worry.”

“ _Malfoy certainly did talk about flying a lot. He complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with him narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. He wasn’t the only one, though: the way Seamus Finnigan told it, he’d spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who’d listen about the time he’d almost hit a hang glider on Charlie’s old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn’t see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harry had caught Ron prodding Dean’s poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move._ ”

Hermione burst out laughing.

“Harry!” Ron groaned.

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t plan on this happening,” Harry said.

“ _Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harry felt she’d had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground._

 _Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn’t learn by heart out of a book—not that she hadn’t tried. At breakfast on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she’d gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages._ ”

James, who had spent the beginning of the chapter pouting, suddenly smirked. “Lily did the same thing,” he said.

“Really?” Harry asked.

Lily’s blush was answer enough.

“ _Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione’s lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail._

_Harry hadn’t had a single letter since Hagrid’s note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy’s eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table._

_A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke._

_“It’s a Remembrall!” he explained. “Grans knows I forget things—this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red—oh…” His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, “…you’ve forgotten something…”_ ”

“You’d forgotten your robes,” Hermione said.

“Really?” Neville asked. “Oops.”

“ _Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand._

 _Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash._ ”

“I had practice with you three.” Minerva raised her eyebrows slightly and made eye contact with the three Marauders.

“ _”What’s going on?”_

_“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”_

_Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table._

_“Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him._

_At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Ron, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance._

_The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harry had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left._ ”

“Because they do!” Fred said, crossing his arms.

“Perhaps it’s time the school invest in new brooms for flying lessons, then.” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.

There were murmurs of agreement from the students.

“ _Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk._

_“Well, what are you all waiting for?” she barked. “Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”_

_Harry glanced down at his broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles._

_“Stick out your right hand over your broom,” called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”_

_“UP!” everyone shouted._

_Harry’s broom jumped into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did._ ”

“What?” James exclaimed, rounding on Harry. “I thought you said you were bad at flying!”

“I am,” Harry managed to get out. “I don’t understand it.”

James glared suspiciously at Harry.

“ _Hermione Granger’s had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville’s hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could simply tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville’s voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground._

_Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry and Ron were delighted when she told Malfoy he’d been doing it wrong for years._

_“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—“_

_But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips._

_“Come back, boy!” she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slid sideways off the broom and—_

_WHAM—a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight._ ”

Remus winced as he read this. “Same thing happened to me,” he said, glancing at Neville. “Flying is not something I particularly enjoy.

Neville nodded, his face slightly flushed.

“ _Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his._

_“Broken wrist,” Harry heard her mutter. “Come on, boy—it’s all right, up you get.”_

_She turned to the rest of the class._

_“None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch.’_ ”

The young Gryffindors in the room all started snickering.

“ _”Come on, dear.”_

_Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him._

_No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter._

_“Did you see his face, the great lump?”_ ”

Draco and Neville both froze.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Minerva started.

“I know,” Draco muttered. “I…” he took a deep breathe. “I’m sorry,” he finished, looking down with great interest at his shoes.

Neville squinted at him for a moment. “It’s in the past,” he finally responded with a wave of his hand.

“ _The other Slytherins joined in._

_“Shut up, Malfoy,” snapped Parvati Patil._

_“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. “Never thought you’d like fat little cry-babies, Parvati.”_

_“Look!” said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. “It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s gran sent him.”_

_The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up._

_“Give that here, Malfoy,” said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch._

_Malfoy smiled nastily._

_“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find—how about—up a tree?”_

_“Give it here!” Harry yelled, but Malfoy had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn’t been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, “Come and get it, Potter!”_

_Harry grabbed his broom._ ”

James perked up and watched Remus read, his eyes glittering intensely.

“ _”No!” shouted Hermione Granger. “Madam Hooch told us not to move—you’ll get us all into trouble.”_

 _Harry ignored her._ ”

“And that much hasn’t changed,” Hermione informed the group.

Harry scowled at her.

“ _Blood was pounding in his ears. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him—and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he’d found something he could do without being taught—this was easy, this was wonderful._ ”

“You can fly!” James crowed. “You like it! You liar!” He was staring wide-eyed at his son, who had thrown his head back laughing.

“Keep reading,” Harry said to Remus as he settled down. “Quick, keep reading.”

Remus shook his head, smiling. “ _He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron._

_He turned his broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned._

_“Give it here,” Harry called, “or I’ll knock you off that broom!”_

_“Oh, yeah?” said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried._

_Harry knew, somehow, what to do. He leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping._

_“No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy,” Harry called._

_The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy._

_“Catch it if you can, then!” he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back towards the ground._

_Harry saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down—next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball—wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching—he stretched out his hand—a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist._ ”

James was sitting on the very edge of the couch, his eyes trained on Harry. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

“ _”HARRY POTTER!”_

_His heart sank faster than he’d just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling._

_“Never—in all my time at Hogwarts—“_

_Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, “—how dare you—might have broken your neck—“_

_“It wasn’t his fault, Professor—“_

“Oh, come on, Minnie, you aren’t going to punish him for that, are you?” James asked, frowning at Minerva.

She simply frowned back at him.

“ _”Be quiet, Miss Patil—“_

_“But Malfoy—“_

_“That’s enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”_

_Harry caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle’s triumphant faces as he left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall’s wake as she strode toward the castle. He was going to be expelled, he just knew it. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he’d done it. He hadn’t even lasted two weeks. He’d be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep?_ ”

“Jesus, Harry, you really are a pessimist,” Hermione said, staring at him.

“ _Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn’t say a word to him. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harry trotting miserably behind her. Maybe she was taking him to Dumbledore. He thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps he could be Hagrid’s assistant. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Ron and the others becoming wizards while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid’s bag._

_Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. She opened the door and poked her head inside._

_“Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?”_

_Wood? thought Harry, bewildered; was Wood a cane she was going to use on him?_ ”

“I would never!” Minerva gasped, her hand flying to her heart.

“I know that now,” Harry said, scratching his head and looking slightly sheepish.

“ _But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick’s class looking confused_

_“Follow me, you two,” said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry._

_“In here.”_

_Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard._

_“Out, Peeves!” she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys._

_“Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood—I’ve found you a Seeker.”_ ”

James snapped his gaze between the book in Remus’s hands, Harry, and Minerva. “No way,” he said. “No way.”

“Oh no,” Lily groaned. “Now you’ve done it.”

“You made Seeker in your first year?” James asked.

“Yes,” Harry said.

“You put him on the team his first year? You actually put him on the team his first year?” This was directed at Minerva, who nodded her head.

“Oh, okay.” James flapped his hands excitedly. “As soon as we finish this book, we’re going to have a father-son Quidditch match,” he told Harry, grinning.

Harry couldn’t resist the smile spreading across his face. “That sounds brilliant,” he replied.

“If I may?” Remus interrupted, grinning himself. “ _Wood’s expression changed from puzzlement to delight._

 _“Are you serious, Professor?”_ ”

“Don’t,” James, Lily, Regulus, and Remus all said at once, their eyes on Sirius.

“Don’t what?” The man in question smirked.

“ _”Absolutely,” said Professor McGonagall crisply._ ”

“Gee, Minnie, I didn’t know you liked me that much,” Sirius said. “You don’t have to pretend to be me.”

“Damn it, Sirius.”

“ _”The boy’s a natural. I’ve never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?”_

_Harry nodded silently. He didn’t have a clue what was going on, but he didn’t seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs._

_“He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive,” Professor McGonagall told Wood. “Didn’t even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn’t have done it.”_

_Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once._

_“Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?” he asked excitedly._ ”

“Not at that point, no,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“ _”Wood’s captain of the Gryffindor team,” Professor McGonagall explained._

_“He’s just the build for a Seeker, too,” said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. “Light—speedy—we’ll have to get him a decent broom, Professor—a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I’d say.”_

_“I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can’t bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn’t look Severus Snape in the face for weeks….”_ ”

“Not that you’d want to,” Sirius muttered.

“ _Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry._

_“I want to hear you’re training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you.”_

_Then she suddenly smiled._

_“Your father would have been proud,” she said. “he was an excellent Quidditch player himself.”_ ”

“I knew you were always proud of me, Minnie!” James grinned. “And yes, in fact, I am very proud.”

Harry felt himself reddening. He sunk into the couch and hid his grin behind his knees.

“ _”You’re joking.”_

_It was dinnertime. Harry had just finished telling Ron what had happened when he’d left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he’d forgotten all about it._

_“Seeker?” he said. “But first years never—you must be the youngest player in about—“_

_“—a century,” said Harry, shoveling pie into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. “Wood told me.”_

_Ron was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Harry._

_“I start training next week,” said Harry. “Only don’t tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.”_ ”

“Yeah, because keeping something like that a secret at Hogwarts always works well.” Regulus chuckled.

“ _Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over._

_“Well done,” said George in a low voice. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too—Beaters.”_

_“I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year,” said Fred. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us.”_

_“Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he’s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”_

_“Bet it’s that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you.”_ ”

Umbridge, who had mostly been silent, suddenly smirked and made a note of this.

“ _Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle._

_“Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?”_

_“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you,” said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl._

_“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only—no contact. What’s the matter? Never heard of a wizard’s duel before, I suppose?”_

_“Of course he has,” said Ron, wheeling around. “I’m his second, who’s yours?”_

_Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up._

_“Crabbe,” he said. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”_

_When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Harry looked at each other._

_“What is a wizard’s duel?” said Harry. “And what do you mean, you’re my second?”_

_“Well, a second’s there to take over if you die,” said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry’s face, he added quickly, “But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards.”_ ”

“So what are we, then, Ron, fake wizards?” Fred asked. “Are we not real wizards until we’ve finished school?”

“Something like that.”

“ _”The most you and Malfoy’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway.”_

_“And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?”_

_“Throw it away and punch him on the nose,” Ron suggested._ ”

The trio burst into laughter at this, leaving Draco fidgeting uncomfortably and the rest of the room eyeing them in confusion.

“ _”Excuse me.”_

_They both looked up. It was Hermione Granger._

_“Can’t a person eat in peace in this place?” said Ron._

_Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry._

_“I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying—“_

_“Bet you could,” Ron muttered._

_“—and you mustn’t go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.”_ ”

“Yeah, Hermione, really selfish of you,” Harry repeated.

“Shut up, Harry,” she said.

“ _”And it’s really none of your business,” said Harry._

_“Good-bye,” said Ron._

_All the same, it wasn’t what you’d call the perfect end to the day, Harry thought, as he lay awake much later listening to Dean and Seamus falling asleep (Neville wasn’t back from the hospital wing). Ron had spent all evening giving him advice such as “If he tries to curse you, you’d better dodge it, because I can’t remember how to block them.” There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris, and Harry felt he was pushing his luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Malfoy’s sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness—this was his big chance to beat Malfoy face-to-face. He couldn’t miss it._

_“Half-past eleven,” Ron muttered at last, “we’d better go.”_

_They pulled on their bathrobes, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Harry.”_

_A lamp flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown._

_“You!” said Ron furiously. “Go back to bed!”_

_“I almost told your brother,” Hermione snapped, “Percy—he’s a prefect, he’d put a stop to this.”_

_Harry couldn’t believe anyone could be so interfering._ ”

“How did the three of you ever become friends?” Sirius wondered, looking from the book to the trio.

“You’ll find out,” they said.

Sirius groaned.

“ _”Come on,” he said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole._

_Hermione wasn’t going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose._

_“Don’t you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don’t want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you’ll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells.”_

_“Go away.”_

_“All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you’re on the train home tomorrow, you’re so—“_

_But what they were, they didn’t find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower._

_“Now what am I going to do?” she asked shrilly._

_“That’s your problem,” said Ron. “We’ve got to go, we’re going to be late.”_

_They hadn’t even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with them._

_“I’m coming with you,” she said._

_“You are not.”_

_“D’you think I’m going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I’ll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up._

_“You’ve got some nerve—“ said Ron loudly._

_“Shut up, both of you!” said Harry sharply. “I heard something.”_ ”

“And that’s why Harry’s the leader of the group,” Ginny said, nodding at the book. “He’s the one who gets them out of trouble.”

“He’s also the one who tends to get us in trouble to begin with,” Hermione huffed.

“ _It was a sort of snuffling._ ”

“Oh crap,” Sirius said. “Was it Mrs. Norris?”

“No,” Harry said. “It was Mr. Snuffleupagus.”

Hermione burst into a fit of laughter.

“Sorry, who’s that?” Neville questioned.

“It’s a puppet from a Muggle television show for kids,” Harry explained. “It’s…I suppose it’s really only funny if you’ve seen it.”

“ _”Mrs. Norris?” breathed Ron, squinting through the dark._

 _It wasn’t Mrs. Norris. It was Neville._ ”

“Oh, right,” Neville spoke up again. “This part.” He shuddered.

“What does that mean?” Molly asked, her face tightening with worry.

“You’ll find out in a few pages if I can read, Molly,” Remus said.

“Right, of course.”

“ _He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer._

_“Thank goodness you found me! I’ve been out here for hours, I couldn’t remember the new password to get in to bed.”_

_“Keep your voice down, Neville. The password’s ‘Pig snout’ but it won’t help you now, the Fat Lady’s gone off somewhere.”_

_“How’s your arm?” said Harry._

_“Fine,” said Neville, showing them. “Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute.”_

_“Good—well, look, Neville, we’ve got to be somewhere, we’ll see you later—“_

_“Don’t leave me!” said Neville, scrambling to his feet, “i don’t want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron’s been past twice already.”_

_Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville._

_“If either of you get us caught, I’ll never rest until I’ve learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.”_

_Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned them all forward._

_They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harry expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room._

_Malfoy and Crabbe weren’t there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harry took out his wand in case Malfoy leapt in and stared at once. The minutes crept by._

_“He’s late, maybe he’s chickened out,” Ron whispered._

_Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his want when they heard someone speak—and it wasn’t Malfoy._

_“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”_ ”

“Classy.” Sirius scowled at Draco. “Really classy.”

Even Regulus was disapproving, staring at the young blond that he’d realized was his younger cousin. “That’s not a very Slytherin thing to do, now, is it?” he asked.

Draco shifted slightly in his seat.

“ _It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harry waved madly at the other three to follow him as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch’s voice. Neville’s robes had barely whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room._

_“They’re in here somewhere,” they heard him mutter, “probably hiding.”_

_“This way!” Harry mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer._ ”

The room was slowly growing thick with tension.

“ _Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run—he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor._ ”

“My bad,” Neville muttered.

“ _The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle._

_“RUN!” Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following—they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going—they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room._

_“I think we’ve lost him,” Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering._

_“I—told—you,” Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, “I—told—you.”_

_“We’ve got to get back to Gryffindor tower,” said Ron, “quickly as possible.”_

_“Malfoy tricked you,” Hermione said to Harry. “You realize that, don’t you? He was never going to meet you—Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off.”_

_Harry thought she was probably right, but he wasn’t going to tell her that._ ”

Hermione threw a pillow in Harry’s direction. “Thanks a lot,” she said.

Harry grinned.

“ _”Let’s go.”_

_It wasn’t going to be that simple. They hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them._

_It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight._

_“Shut up, Peeves—please—you’ll get us thrown out.”_

_Peeves cackled._

_“Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you’ll get caughty.”_

_“Not if you don’t give us away, Peeves, please.”_

_“Should tell Filch, I should,” said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. “It’s for your own good, you know.”_

_“Get out of the way,” snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves—this was a big mistake._ ”

“Ron,” the twins groaned. “Did we teach you nothing?”

“Shut up,” Ron hissed.

“ _”STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” Peeves bellowed, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”_

_Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right ot the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door—and it was locked._

_“This is it!” Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, “We’re done for! This is the end!”_ ”

“Drama queen,” Fred snickered.

“ _They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves’s shouts._

_“Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry’s wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, “Alohomora!”_

_The lock clicked and the door swung open—they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening._

_“Which way did they go, Peeves?” Filch was saying. “Quick, tell me.”_

_“Say ‘please.’”_

_“Don’t mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?”_

_“Shan’t say nothing if you don’t say please,” said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice._

_“All right—please.”_

_“NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn’t say nothing if you didn’t say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!” And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage._ ”

There was a collective sigh of relief from those in the room who weren’t professors. Even Percy found himself relaxing slightly.

“ _”He thinks this door is locked,” Harry whispered. “I think we’ll be okay—get off, Neville!” For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry’s bathrobe for the last minute. “What?”_

_Harry turned around—and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he’d walked into a nightmare—this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far._

_They weren’t in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden._ ”

“What?” Molly’s voice was tight with fear. “What is it? Why was it forbidden?”

“Molly,” Arthur whispered, taking his wife’s hand in his own. “Breathe. Let Remus read.”

“ _They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs._ ”

“A CERBERUS?” Molly shouted, standing up very suddenly and glaring at Dumbledore. “You had a CERBERUS IN THE SCHOOL?”

“Mum, calm down!” Ron said, eyes wide. “We were fine!”

“Just because you were fine doesn’t make it okay, Ronald,” Molly fumed, still staring accusingly at Dumbledore. “What were you thinking, Albus?”

“This will all be explained at the end of the book, Molly, I’m sure,” Dumbledore said. “Until then, please, try to remain calm.”

Molly spluttered a furious response, but never the less sank back into the couch, though her face remained contorted with anger.

“ _It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and harry knew that the only reason they weren’t already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant._

_Harry groped for the doorknob—between Filch and death, he’d take Filch._

_They fell backward—Harry slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn’t see him anywhere, but they hardly cared—all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn’t stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor._

_“Where on earth have you all been?” she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces._

_“Never mind that—pig snout, pig snout,” panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs._

_It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he’d never speak again._

_“What do they think they’re doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?” said Ron finally. “If any dog needs exercise, that one does.”_

_Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again._

_“You don’t use your eyes, any of you, do you?” she snapped. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”_

_“The floor?” Harry suggested._ ”

“Ah, the sarcasm returns,” Sirius said.

“ _”I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads.”_

_“No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It’s obviously guarding something.”_

_She stood up, glaring at them._

_“I hope you’re pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”_ ”

“Hermione,” said Ginny slowly. “I think dying would be a little worse than being expelled.”

Hermione flushed. “I know,” she said.

“ _Ron stared after her, his mouth open._

_“No, we don’t mind,” he said. “You’d think we dragged her along, wouldn’t you?”_

_But Hermione had given Harry something else to think about as he climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something…. What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide—except perhaps Hogwarts._

_It looked as though Harry had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was._ ”

Remus closed the book and set it on the table in the middle of the room. “That’s the end,” he said.

“Should we take a break for lunch?” Arthur suggested, glancing at Molly.

“Yes,” she said stiffly. “That would be an excellent idea. There’s plenty of stuff to make sandwiches—we can all make our own lunches and spend some time discussing things.”

The others nodded in agreement. They all stood up when Lily suddenly gasped.

“What is it?” James grabbed her hand.

“The sorcerer’s stone,” she breathed. “That’s what the dog is guarding.”

“How do you figure?” Sirius asked.

“It’s the title of the book,” Lily said. “What else could it be?”

Harry frowned. “It took them half a day to figure out what took us months,” he muttered to Ron and Hermione. Then he said, a little louder, “Yeah, it’s the stone.”

Lily grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I waffle a lot about when I'm going to write things. I think I have settled on the Alien chapter being after the Mirror of Erised, though, because I'm just really excited again to write it. It's gonna be so much fun!
> 
> Also oh my god, the Sesame Street joke that annoyed my friends so much. I love annoying my friends when I write fics.
> 
> Reading these old author's notes is making me miss my grandfather. That's a good thing, though, and it's helping me grieve a little. Fun times. This is also no longer the furthest I've gotten writing a fic, since I've made it to chapter 16!!!
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	13. A Small Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            “The sorcerer’s stone,” she breathed. “That’s what the dog is guarding.”

            “How do you figure?” Sirius asked.

            “It’s the title of the book,” Lily said. “What else could it be?”

            Harry frowned. “It took them half a day to figure out what took us months,” he muttered to Ron and Hermione. Then he said, a little louder, “Yeah, it’s the stone.”

            Lily grinned.

 

Now:

 

            “I still can’t believe your mom figured it out before we did,” Hermione told Harry, frowning.

            Harry hummed in response, putting off answering by spreading mustard on a slice of bread.

            “You have to admit that it’s easier with the book,” Ron said. “The title is the bloody ‘Sorcerer’s Stone’. The answer was right there.”

            “Yeah,” Harry agreed, folding a slice of ham and pressing it to the bread. “If we’d just had these books from the beginning—“

            Hermione snorted. “Right. Because you’re so happy and willing to read them now, so reading them in our first year would have totally been better.”

            “Shut up.”

            “Very eloquent,” Hermione said.

            “Shut up,” Harry repeated.

 

            Lily paced the length of the reading room, her face twisted with suppressed fury. James watched her, his own expression unreadable.

            “It’s completely inappropriate,” she fumed.

            “I know,” James said quietly. “I know.”

            “It’s just…how dare he? He should know better!” Lily stopped pacing and fastened her glare on the door that Snape had hastened through.

            “Yeah, he should,” James agreed. “Being angry right now, though, when it’s clear he’s not going to think about changing, that’s not helping anything, Lils.”

            “Are you really telling me right now that I should be the bigger person?”

            “And what if I am?”

            Lily scoffed. “You have some nerve saying that.”

            “I know I do.” James couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips. “But you know that I’m right. Snape needs to accept that he’s wrong on his own terms. You can’t push him into that.”

            “That’s not going to stop me from being furious with him.”

            “You should be angry. What he’s done is wrong.”

            “When the hell did you get so mature?” Lily wondered, frowning at her husband.

            James smiled. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go eat.”

            Lily huffed and rolled her eyes at the lack of an answer, but followed James into the kitchen.

 

            Neville eyed Harry, Ron, and Hermione from across the table, debating whether or not he should ask the question on his mind.

            “You alright, Nev?” Ginny asked. “I can see the wheels in your head moving from here.”

            “Yeah, m’fine,” he assured her. “I just have a question for those three.” He gestured at the trio.

            “What is it?” Harry questioned.

            “Is this book going to explain why exactly you left me in the common room at the end of the year?”

            Harry and Ron burst out laughing as Hermione froze next to him, her cheeks turning red.

            “I should expect it explains a lot more than that,” Ron said as soon as he managed to catch his breath.

            “What are you talking about?” Arthur asked.

            The four in question answered in unison. “You’ll see.”

            The adults at the table groaned.

            “Is that all you guys are going to say when we ask you about the story?” Remus wondered.

            “You’ll see.”

            There was more groaning.

            Minerva sighed and set down her mug of coffee. “Well, I hope I’m not the only one ready to get back to reading, if that’s the only way to get answers.”

            “Yeah!” Fred agreed, jumping up from his spot. “Let’s get back to reading.”

            Harry’s smile dropped. “Do we have to?”

            “Yes.”

            “Fine,” he groaned, drawing out the word. He rose from the table and followed Fred back to the reading room.

            Once everyone had settled, Harry reached for the book, eyeing it like it could poison him, and opened to the next chapter. “ _Chapter ten,_ ” he read. “ _Halloween…._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHAHA this chapter was a couple months after 5SOS released Youngblood and HEY GUESS WHAT I saw them in concert twice and Youngblood is still a fantastic album and I wish there was a way to blast the shit out of the Youngblood Live album because Jet Black Heart Live is the best fucking thing I've ever heard.
> 
> This is also around when Forts Like Vana followed me last year and I became a fan of them and I am going to go to a concert of theirs one day, I swear, as long as they have a date somewhere I can reasonably stay SOON, GUYS.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	14. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            Harry’s smile dropped. “Do we have to?”

            “Yes.”

            “Fine,” he groaned, drawing out the word. He rose from the table and followed Fred back to the reading room.

            Once everyone had settled, Harry reached for the book, eyeing it like it could poison him, and opened to the next chapter. “ _Chapter ten,_ ” he read. “ _Halloween…._ ”

 

Now:

 

            Harry, Hermione, and Ron grimaced at the chapter title.

            “This is going to get interesting very fast,” Hermione said.

            “In a good way or a bad way?” Molly asked, her face drawn with anxiety.

            “Er….” Hermione bit her lip. “I think it’s best to just let Harry read.”

            “ _Malfoy couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harry and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one._ ”

            Molly groaned.

            “ _In the meantime, Harry filled Ron in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection._

_“It’s either really valuable or really dangerous,” said Ron._ ”

            “Or both,” Remus said with a grin.

            Harry coughed slightly. “ _”Or both,” said Harry._ ”

            Sirius snickered.

            “ _But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn’t have much change of guessing what it was without further clues._

_Neither Neville nor Hermione showed the slightest interest in what lay beneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Neville cared about was never going near the dog again._

_Hermione was now refusing to speak to Harry and Ron, but she was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus._ ”

            Harry stopped reading and glanced over to Hermione, a guilty look glinting in his eyes.

            “How in the world did the three of you become friends?” George wondered, staring at the book in awe.

            “It’s in this chapter,” Hermione responded. “Please keep reading, Harry?”

            “ _All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Malfoy, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later._

_As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone’s attention was caught at once by a long, thing package carried by six large screech owls. Harry was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of him, knocking his bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel._

_Harry ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:_

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE._

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everybody knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first training session._

_Professor McGonagall._ ”

            “Right, because it was such a mystery what was in the package,” James said. He rolled his eyes at Minerva. “Do not open at the table? What else could he have been sent that would be shaped like a broom?”

            Minerva elected to ignore James’s questions, though try as she might she could not hide the light in her eyes at hearing his laughter.

            “ _Harry had difficulty hiding his glee as he handed the note to Ron._ ” Harry paused for a moment. “This is weird,” he announced to the room at large before continuing. “ _”A Nimbus Two Thousand!” Ron moaned enviously. “I’ve never even touched one.”_

_They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harry and felt it._

_“That’s a broomstick,” he said, throwing it back to Harry with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. “You’ll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren’t allowed them.”_

_Ron couldn’t resist._

_“It’s not any old broomstick,” he said, “it’s a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?” Ron grinned at Harry. “Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”_

_“What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the handle,” Malfoy snapped back._ ”

            Draco noticed that this book had him in the habit of shrinking back into the couch under the withering glares of the Weasley family.

            “ _”I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig.”_

_Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy’s elbow._

_“Not arguing, I hope, boys?” he squeaked._

_“Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,” said Malfoy quickly._

_“Yes, yes, that’s right,” said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harry. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?”_

_“A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” said harry, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy’s face. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” he added._

_Harry and Ron headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Malfoy’s obvious rage and confusion._ ”

            Ron, at least, had no such reservations about smothering his laughter now.

            “ _”Well, it’s true,” Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, “If he hadn’t stolen Neville’s Remembrall I wouldn’t be on the team….”_

_“So I suppose you think that’s a reward for breaking rules?” came an angry voice from behind them. Hermione was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harry’s hand._

_“I thought you weren’t speaking to us?” said Harry._

_“Yes, don’t stop now,” said Ron, “it’s doing us so much good.”_ ”

            “Ron!” It was Ginny who said this, glaring at her brother.

            Ron grimaced. “I know,” he assured Ginny. He turned his attention to Hermione and opened his mouth to apologize, but Hermione silenced him with a stern look.

            “ _Hermione marched away with her nose in the air._

_Harry had a lot of trouble keeping his mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where his new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where he’d be learning to play that night. He bolted his dinner that evening without even noticing what he was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ron to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last._

_“Wow,” Ron sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harry’s bedspread._

_Even Harry, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top._ ”

            James looked over at Harry, his eyes sparkling with wonder. “Can you show us your broom?”

            “Ah, no,” Harry said.

            “What? Why not?”

            “Well, it kind of got…destroyed?”

            “How?” James demanded, missing the looks of guilt on Remus and Sirius’ faces.

            “You’ll find out later,” Harry promised, returning his attention to the book. “ _As seven o’clock drew nearer, harry left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. He’d never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high._ ”

            “I thought the same thing,” Lily breathed out, a smile gracing her face.

            Harry grinned despite the color rising on his cheeks.

            “What is this thing that Muggle children use to make bubbles?” Arthur asked, his eyes dancing with curiosity.

            “I can show you later,” Hermione offered.

            Arthur looked delighted at this and settled back.

            “ _Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling—he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch._

_“Hey, Potter, come down!”_

_Oliver Wood had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Harry landed next to him._

_“Very nice,” said Wood, his eyes glinting. “I see what McGonagall meant…you really are a natural. I’m just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you’ll be joining team practice three times a week.”_

_He opened the crate. Inside were four different –sized balls._

_“Right,” said Wood. “Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it’s not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers.”_ ”

            “I was one of the Gryffindor Chasers,” James recalled with a smile.

            “I was a Beater,” Sirius added.

            “Really?” Harry said, eyes wide.

            Sirius nodded sagely.

            “Brilliant! What was it—“

            Harry was cut off by an irate Percy. “Can we continue, please?”

            With a roll of his eyes, Harry turned his attention back to the text. “ _”Three Chasers,” Harry repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball._

_“This ball’s called the Quaffle,” said Wood. “The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?”_

_“The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score,” Harry recited. “So—that’s sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn’t it?”_

_“What’s basketball?” said Wood curiously._

_“Never mind,” said Harry quickly._

_“Now, there’s another player on each side who’s called the Keeper—I’m the Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring.”_

_“Three Chasers, one Keeper,” said Harry, who was determined to remember it all. “And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?” He pointed at the three balls left inside the box._

_“I’ll show you now,” said Wood. “Take this.”_

_He handed Harry a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat._ ”

            “What’s baseball?” Arthur asked.

            “Later,” Molly hissed at him.

            “ _”I’m going to show you what the Bludgers do,” Wood said. “These two are the Bludgers.”_

_He showed Harry two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harry noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box._

_“Stand back,” Wood warned Harry. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers._

_At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harry’s face. Harry swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking his nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air—it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground._ ”

            “You’d make a decent Beater,” George observed.

            “Thanks, mate.” Harry grinned. “ _”See?” Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. “The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That’s why you have two Beaters on each team—the Weasley twins are ours—it’s their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So—think you’ve got all that?”_

_“Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team,” Harry reeled off._

_“Very good,” said Wood._

_“Er—have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Harry asked, hoping he sounded offhand._ ”

            Remus snorted. “I’m sure it was very offhand.”

            “ _”Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That’s you. And you don’t have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers—“_

_“—unless they crack my head open.”_ ”

            “Or get enchanted and break your arm,” Ron mused.

            Hermione shook her head, a small smile on her face.

            “ _”Don’t worry, the Weasleys are more than a match for the Bludgers—I mean, they’re like a pair of human Bludgers themselves.”_ ”

            Fred ducked his head into George’s shoulder and started sobbing.

            “That might be the nicest thing Oliver’s ever said about us!” George exclaimed, dramatically wiping away a few tears of his own.

            “Oh, honestly, you two,” Ginny sighed.

            The twins looked around the room, grinning hugely.

            “ _Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings._

_“This,” said Wood,” is the Golden Snitch, and it’s the most important ball of the lot. It’s very hard to catch because it’s so fast and difficult to see. It’s the Seeker’s job to catch it. You’ve got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team’s Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That’s why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages—I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep._

_“Well, that’s it—any questions?”_

_Harry shook his head. He understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem._

_“We won’t practice with the Snitch yet,” said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, “it’s too dark, we might lose it. Let’s try you out with a few of these.”_

_He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Harry were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Harry to catch._

_Harry didn’t miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn’t carry on._

_“That Quidditch cup’ll have our name on it this year,” said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn’t gone off chasing dragons.”_ ”

            Harry paused here and met the eyes of the twins, who were shaking their heads.

            “This Wood sounds a tad eager about Quidditch,” Lily said.

            “You have no idea,” Fred, George, and Harry said at the same time.

            “He was a right nightmare his last year,” George confessed.

            Harry rolled his eyes. “I thought he had a point. Besides, it worked out, didn’t it?”

            “You mean you won the cup?” James asked delightedly.

            “You’ll see.” This time, it was Remus who said it.

            James groaned.

            “ _Perhaps it was because he was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Harry could hardly believe it when he realized that he’d already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had._ ”

            Lily frowned and leaned into James’s shoulder.

            “ _His lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics._

_On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they’d seen him make Neville’s toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class in pairs to practice. Harry’s partner was Seamus Finnegan (which was a relief, because Neville had been trying to catch his eye)._ ”

            “Sorry, Neville,” Harry added as soon as he read this.

            Neville nodded slightly, trying not to be amused by the desperate look of guilt on Harry’s face.

            “ _Ron, however, was to be working with Hermione Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ron or Hermione was angrier about this. She hadn’t spoken to either of them since the day Harry’s broomstick had arrived._

_“Now, don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too—never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest.”_ ”

            “That doesn’t work, by the way,” Sirius said.

            Minerva sighed.

            “ _It was very difficult. Harry and Seamus swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Seamus got so impatient that he prodded it with his wand and set fire to it—Harry had to put it out with his hat._

_Ron, at the next table, wasn’t having much more luck._

_“Wingardium Leviosa!” he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill._

_“You’re saying it wrong,” Harry heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”_

_“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled._

_Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”_

_Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads._

_“Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!”_

_Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class._

_“It’s no wonder no one can stand her,” he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, “she’s a nightmare, honestly.”_ ”

            “Ron!” Molly snapped, turning a fierce glare on her youngest son.

            “I really am sorry, Hermione,” Ron said, facing the girl next to him.

            “I know.” Hermione’s voice was soft, and she avoided making direct eye contact with Ron. “It’s in the past now.”

            “ _Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face—and was startled to see that she was in tears._

_“I think she heard you.”_

_“So?” said Ron, but he looked a bit uncomfortable. “She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”_ ”

            Ron grimaced. “Sorry,” he whispered.

            Hermione reached down and squeezed his hand, giving him a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Ron.”

            “ _Hermione didn’t turn up for the next class and wasn’t seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harry and Ron overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls’ bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ron looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermione out of their minds._ ”

            “How the ruddy hell did you three become friends?” George demanding, staring from the book to the trio.

            “Let Harry keep reading, you’re about to find out,” Ron promised.

            “ _A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet._

_Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore’s chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, “Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know.”_

_He then sank to the floor in a dead faint._ ”

            “A _what_ in the dungeons?” Molly hissed, her face drawn and pale.

            “A troll,” Minerva supplied.

            “A troll?” Lily repeated, trying and failing to not sound horribly worried.

            Sirius had gone very still and had wrapped an arm around Harry.

            “Honestly,” Hermione said, drawing the attention of the room. “This was our first year. We’re all fine.”

            “She’s right,” Neville said. “Nothing too bad happened.”

            Minerva raised an eyebrow at the young boy. “I think, Mr. Potter, that it would be best if you continued.”

            Harry nodded. “ _There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore’s wand to bring silence._

_“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”_

_Percy was in his element._ ”

            “’Course he was,” Fred muttered.

            “Wait,” Lily said. “The Slytherin dormitory is in the dungeons, isn’t it? You didn’t actually send them to the dungeons, did you?”

            “No,” Dumbledore assured her softly, his eyes twinkling. “The Slytherins remained in the antechamber off the Great Hall until the troll was dealt with. I assure you, Mrs. Potter, none of the children were in any danger.”

            “ _”Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I’m a prefect!”_

_“How could a troll get in?” Harry asked as they climbed the stairs._

_“Don’t ask me, they’re supposed to be really stupid,” said Ron. “Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.”_ ”

            “No, that’s not like him,” James said, frowning. “Peeves enjoys pranks, but he would never actually endanger the students at Hogwarts.”

            “Then how did the troll get in?” Arthur wondered.

            “You’ll find out,” Dumbledore said gravely.

            “ _They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harry suddenly grabbed Ron’s arm._

_“I’ve just thought—Hermione.”_

_“What about her?”_

_“She doesn’t know about the troll.”_ ”

            “You did not.” The adults in the room who had not been present for this Halloween stared between the trio, half with amused curiosity, and half with worried fury.

            Hermione chuckled weakly.

            Ron shrugged.

            Harry elected to keep reading. “ _Ron bit his lip._

_“Oh, all right,” he snapped. “But Percy’d better not see us.”_

_Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the girls’ bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them._

_“Percy!” hissed Ron, pulling Harry behind a large stone griffin._

_Peering around it, however, they saw not Percy but Snape. He crossed the corridor and disappeared from view._ ”

            Snape groaned. Of course they would have seen him. It was clear that this book, and most likely the others, would not be kind to him.

            “ _”What’s he doing?” Harry whispered. “Why isn’t he down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?”_

_“Search me.”_

_Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Snape’s fading footsteps._

_“He’s heading for the third floor,” Harry said, but Ron held up his hand._ ”

            Lily found herself frowning at Snape.

            “ _”Can you smell something?”_

_Harry sniffed and a foul stench reached his nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean._

_And then they heard it—a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed—at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight._ ”

            Molly clutched Arthur’s arm and let out a quiet whimper.

            “ _It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long._

_The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room._

_“The key’s in the lock,” Harry muttered. “We could lock it in.”_ ”

            Hermione went very still, staring at the book in Harry’s hands.

            “ _”Good idea,” said Ron nervously._ ”

            “You didn’t,” Hermione said, very quietly.

            Ron shifted next to her, biting his lip.

            “ _They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn’t about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harry managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it._

_“Yes!”_ ”

            “You did!” Hermione cried, torn between amusement and anger.

            “We didn’t mean to!” Harry defended. “We didn’t know!”

            “What did you do?” Fred asked.

            “Just read!” Hermione instructed Harry. “You’re about to find out!”

            Fred rubbed his hands together eagerly, grinning. “Excellent.”

            “ _Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop—a high, petrified scream—and it was coming from the chamber they’d just chained up._

_“Oh, no,” said Ron, pale as the Bloody Baron._

_“It’s the girls’ bathroom!” Harry gasped._

_“Hermione!” they said together._ ”

            Fred burst into laughter. “You didn’t,” he managed to get out between gasps.

            “We did,” Ron muttered, his ears red.

            “Brilliant,” George said, also laughing.

            “It really wasn’t,” Hermione snapped. “They locked me in a bathroom with a troll!”

            Minerva and Snape were both frowning at the trio.

            “Ms. Granger, didn’t you tell me that—“ Minerva started to say.

            Hermione cut her off with a quick apology, shooting Harry a glance.

            “ _It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harry pulled the door open and they ran inside._

_Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went._

_“Confuse it!” Harry said desperately to Ron, and, seizing a tap, he threw it as hard as he could against the wall._

_The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went._

_“Oy, pea-brain!” yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn’t even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it._ ”

            Everyone in the room who had not heard this tale before had tensed, even Percy.

            “ _”Come on, run, run!” Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn’t move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror._

_The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape._ ”

            Molly groaned.

            “ _Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll’s neck from behind._ ”

            “Harry!” Remus muttered, pinching his nose between his fingers.

            Harry grinned sheepishly. “ _The troll couldn’t feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry’s wand had still been in his hand when he’d jumped—it had gone straight up one of the troll’s nostrils._

_Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club._ ”

            Despite having seen the three then first years standing next to an unconscious troll, Minerva had never known what really happened, and was now staring at Harry with concern. If this was what had happened in his first year, there was no telling what other very real dangers he, Ron, and Hermione had faced since then.

            “ _Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand—not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: “Wingardium Leviosa!”_ ”

            “You can’t even do that spell!” George cried, caught up in the moment.

            Ron huffed and crossed his arms. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

            “ _The club flew suddenly out of the troll’s hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over—and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner’s head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble._ ”

            “Holy shit,” Fred breathed, looking at Harry in awe. “Mate, when I told Ron he would have to wrestle a troll to get sorted, I was joking.”

            George laughed weakly. “Yeah, what he said.”

            “You fought a full grown mountain troll and won?” Sirius demanded.

            “Yes?” Harry responded. “Is that a serious question?”

            Sirius opened his mouth, but Harry, realizing his mistake, quickly returned his attention to the book.

            “ _Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done._

_It was Hermione who spoke first._

_“Is it—dead?”_

_“I don’t think so,” said Harry, “I think it’s just been knocked out.”_

_He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll’s nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue._ ”

            “Ew,” Neville groaned, turning slightly green.

            “ _”Urgh—troll boogers.”_

_He wiped it on the troll’s trousers._

_A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn’t realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll’s roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart._ ”

            “Right coward, he was,” Fred scoffed, his heart having reached a normal pace again.

            “ _Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harry’s mind._ ”

            James burst out laughing. “That’s not how that works at all.”

            Harry blushed.

            “ _”What on earth were you thinking of?” said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?”_

_Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor. He wished Ron would put his wand down._

_Then a small voice came out of the shadows._

_“Please, Professor McGonagall—they were looking for me.”_

_“Miss Granger!”_

_Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last._

_“I went looking for the troll because I—I thought I could deal with it on my own—you know, because I’ve read all about them.”_

_Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?_ ”

            Minerva’s face was unreadable, but there was a light in her eyes as she watched the majority of the room turn and stare at Hermione.

            “We’ll corrupt you yet, Hermione!” George crowed.

            Hermione’s face was a light pink behind her hands.

            “ _”If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”_

_Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn’t new to them._ ”

            “You failed miserably,” Snape informed them coldly.

            “ _”Well—in that case…” said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them. “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”_

_Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets._ ”

            “The horror,” Sirius whispered, putting a hand over his heart. “I can’t even imagine it. It’s too awful!”

            Snape scowled fiercely.

            “ _”Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” said Professor McGonagall. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses.”_

_Hermione left._

_Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron._

_“Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go.”_ ”

            “You knew about this and didn’t tell us?” Molly asked, turning her gaze to Dumbledore.

            “Yes,” he admitted. “As no one was hurt, I saw fit to not worry anyone with news of what had happened.”

            Molly sniffed slightly. This wasn’t over for her, not by a long shot.

            “ _They hurried out of the chamber and didn’t speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else._

_“We should have gotten more than ten points,” Ron grumbled._

_“Five, you mean, once she’s taken off Hermione’s.”_

_“Good of her to get us out of trouble like that,” Ron admitted. “Mind you, we did save her.”_

_“She might not have needed saving if we hadn’t locked the thing in with her,” Harry reminded him._ ”

            “Yeah,” Hermione grumbled, still slightly pink.

            “ _They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady._

_“Pig snout,” they said and entered._

_The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been set up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said “Thanks,” and hurried off to get plates._

_But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them._ ”

            Harry closed the book and dropped it without ceremony into Sirius’s lap.

            “That’s how the three of you became friends?” Remus asked, his voice strained.

            “Yes,” the three in question answered.

            “You know,” Lily commented, “most people become friends by just talking to each other and working through their problems, not by fighting a troll.”

            “That’s just boring, though, isn’t it?” Ron grinned.

            “Is every year going to be like this?” Fred sounded eager.

            The trio looked at each other and shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

            “Wicked.”

            Sirius held up the book. “So I’m up, then, I take it?”

            Met with nodding from most of the group, Sirius flipped the book open to the next chapter. “ _Chapter eleven._ ” He grinned hugely at the book. “ _Quidditch.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! We're almost caught up and we're almost ready for chapter SIXTEEN!!! Everyone get hype!!!!
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	15. Quidditch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            “Is every year going to be like this?” Fred sounded eager.

            The trio looked at each other and shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

            “Wicked.”

            Sirius held up the book. “So I’m up, then, I take it?”

            Met with nodding from most of the group, Sirius flipped the book open to the next chapter. “ _Chapter eleven._ ” He grinned hugely at the book. “ _Quidditch.”_

Now:

 

            There was an air of excitement hanging in the room as Sirius started reading.

            “ _As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots._

_The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin._ ”

            “Oh, those are always the best games,” James said, grinning.

            Murmurs of agreement met this statement.

            “ _If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship._

_Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn’t know which was worse—people telling him he’d be brilliant or people telling him they’d be running around underneath him holding a mattress._ ”

            “It’s a shame they never actually followed through on that,” Harry mused. “Would have been really useful third year.”

            Remus bit his lip to keep himself from laughing.

            “What are you talking about?” Molly asked.

            “You’ll find out later, Mum,” Ginny assured her.

            “ _It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn’t know how he’d have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read._

_Harry learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert._

_Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harry and Ron had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it._ _The day before Harry’s first Quidditch match the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harry noticed at once that Snape was limping._ ”

            Snape groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

            “ _Harry, Ron, and Hermione moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn’t be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Snape’s eye. He limped over. He hadn’t seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway._ ”

            Lily grit her teeth and tried to fight off a scowl.

            James grabbed her hand and squeezed it, whispering something to her that no one else could hear.

            “ _”What’s that you’ve got there, Potter?”_

_It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harry showed him._

_“Library books are not to be taken outside the school,” said Snape._ ”

            “That is not a rule, Severus!” Minerva snapped, pinning her colleague with a fierce stare.

            “Maybe not, but it makes up for the fire that is, in fact, against the rules,” Snape responded coldly.

            “ _”Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor.”_

_“He’s just made that rule up,” Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. “Wonder what’s wrong with his leg?”_

_“Dunno, but I hope it’s really hurting him,” said Ron bitterly._ ”

            Molly gave Ron a stern glance, but otherwise said nothing.

            “ _The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking Harry and Ron’s Charms homework for them. She would never let them copy (“How will you learn?”), but by asking her to read it through, they got the right answers anyway._

_Harry felt restless. He wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take his mind off his nerves about tomorrow. Why should he be afraid of Snape? Getting up, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to ask Snape if he could have it._

_“Better you than me,” they said together, but Harry had an idea that Snape wouldn’t refuse if there were other teachers listening._

_He made his way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing._

_Perhaps Snape had left the book in there? It was worth a try. He pushed the door ajar and peered inside—and a horrible scene met his eyes._ ”

            “What?” Molly asked urgently.

            Sirius, reading ahead for the answer, burst out laughing.

            “What?” Molly repeated. “What happened?”

            “ _Snape and Filch were inside, alone,_ ” Sirius read, struggling to contain his laughter.

            “No!” Fred cried, wiping away tears of mirth.

            “The horror!” George echoed.

            “Shut up!” Snape snapped.

            “ _Snape was holding his robes above his knees,_ ” Sirius continued, his face red with amusement, his lips twitching as he struggled to remain calm enough to speak.

            “Potter!” Snape said furiously.

            Harry, who was having a hard time suppressing his own laughter, said as defensively as he could, “I didn’t write this! I didn’t even want to read this!”

            “I don’t think I want to hear much more of this,” Ginny said, equal parts amused and horrified.

            Even Lily was smiling softly, though she tried to hide it by pressing her face into James’s neck.

            Minerva, fighting a smile, motioned for Sirius to continue before Snape gave up trying to avoid attention and hexed everyone in the room.

            “ _One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages._

_“Blasted thing,” Snape was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”_ ”

            “Wait,” Fred said, sobering up at once. “You went to the forbidden third floor? What were you doing there?”

            “That would be none of your business, Mr. Weasley,” Snape drawled.

            “But—“

            Sirius cut off Fred’s protests quickly. “ _Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but—_

_“POTTER!”_

_Snape’s face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped._

_“I just wondered if I could have my book back.”_ ”

            James grinned widely. “That’s my son!”

            Harry felt his face heating up as he bit his lip to hide a smile.

            “ _”GET OUT! OUT!”_

_Harry left, before Snape could take any more points from Gryffindor. He sprinted back upstairs._

_“Did you get it?” Ron asked as Harry joined them. “What’s the matter?”_

_In a low whisper, Harry told them what he’d seen._

_“You know what this means?” he finished breathlessly. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That’s where he was going when we saw him—he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!”_ ”

            “I did nothing of the sort,” Snape hissed.

            “Then who did?” Remus asked.

            “You’ll find out,” Minerva said, her eyes flashing dangerously.

            “ _Hermione’s eyes went wide._

_“No—he wouldn’t,” she said. “I know he’s not very nice, but he wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.”_

_“Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something,” snapped Ron. “I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?”_

            “The sorcerer’s stone,” Lily mused softly. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

            “ _Harry went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. Neville was snoring loudly, but Harry couldn’t sleep. He tried to empty his mind—he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours—but the expression on Snape’s face when Harry had seen his leg wasn’t easy to forget._ ”

            “I still have nightmares about it,” Harry said as nonchalantly as he could, examining his nails.

            Neville snickered.

            “ _The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match._ ”

            “Oh, that’s always a good vibe to walk in to,” James said, his gaze distant.

            “ _”You’ve got to eat something.”_

_“I don’t want anything.”_

_“Just a bit of toast,” wheedled Hermione._

_“I’m not hungry.”_

_Harry felt terrible._ ”

            “What else is new?” Harry muttered.

            “ _In an hour’s time he’d be walking onto the field._

_“Harry, you need your strength,” said Seamus Finnigan. “Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team.”_

_“Thanks, Seamus,” said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages._ ”

            “Ew,” Ginny said, making a face. “Who does that?”

            “It’s good,” Regulus spoke quietly, the ghost of a grin on his face.

            Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Disgusting,” she muttered.

            “ _By eleven o’clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes._

_Ron and Hermione joined Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harry, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermione had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors._ ”

            “It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me,” Harry grinned. “Meant a lot. Thanks, guys,” he said to Ron, Neville, and Hermione.

            They returned his smile with ones of their own.

            “ _Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harry and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green)._ ”

            “The best color,” Draco and Regulus both said. They exchanged glances, looking surprised.

            “ _Wood cleared his throat for silence._ ”

            “Okay, men,” Fred said, sitting straight up.

            “And women,” George added, also drawing himself upright.

            “This is it,” Harry continued.

            “The big one,” George said.

            “The one we’ve all been waiting for.” Fred placed a hand over his heart and grinned.

            Sirius gave the three an amused look before continuing. “ _”Okay, men,” he said._

_“And women,” said Chaser Angelina Johnson._

_“And women,” Wood agreed. “This is it.”_

_“The big one,” said Fred Weasley._

_“The one we’ve all been waiting for,” said George._

_“We know Oliver’s speech by heart,” Fred told Harry, “we were on the team last year.”_ ”

            Percy rolled his eyes.

“ _“Shut up, you two,” said Wood. “This is the best team Gryffindor’s had in years. We’re going to win, I know it.”_

_He glared at them as if to say, “Or else.”_

_“Right. It’s time. Good luck, all of you.”_

_Harry followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren’t going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers._

_Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand._

_“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,” she said, once they were all gathered around her._ ”

            “Too bad that’ll never happen,” George said, his tone now bitter as he glared at Draco.

            “ _Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter for President over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver._ ”

            Hermione beamed.

            “ _”Mount your brooms, please.”_

_Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand._

_Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle._

_Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off._

_“And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—“_

_“JORDAN!”_

_“Sorry, Professor.”_

_The Weasley twins’ friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall._ ”

            “A feeling I remember well,” said Remus.

            Minerva bit back a smile.

            “ _”And she’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood’s, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he’s going to sc—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Woof and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that’s Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that’s Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he’s blocked by a second Bludger—sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can’t tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she’s really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead—come on, now Angelina—Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDORS SCORE!”_ ”

            Forgetting himself for a moment, James cheered.

            “ _Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins._

_“Budge up there, move along.”_

_“Hagrid!”_

_Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them._ ”

            “Wait, what?” Neville asked.

            Sirius skimmed the next page quickly. “I think the author switch points of view,” he explained.

            “Oh,” Neville said. “Why?”

            “Not a clue.”

            Hermione, however, was shrinking back into the couch with a very good idea as to why.

            “ _”Bin watchin’ from me hut,” said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around his neck, “But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”_

_“Nope,” said Ron. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”_

_“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s somethin’,” said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry._

_Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Wood’s game plan._

_“Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch,” Wood had said. “We don’t want you attacked before you have to be.”_ ”

            “That’s a good strategy,” James mused.

            “ _When Angelina had scored, Harry had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off his feelings. Now he was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once he caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys’ wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it._ ”

            “Wait, how’d you know that was me?” Fred asked.

            “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” Harry said.

            “ _”All right there, Harry?” he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint._

_“Slytherins in possession,” Le Jordan was saying, “Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?”_

_A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear._ ”

            “Idiot.”

            “Oh, like you never once did that, James,” Remus sniggered.

            “I never did!”

            “Uh huh, sure.”

            “ _Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch—all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch._

_Harry was faster than Higgs—he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead—he put on an extra spurt of speed—_

_WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below—Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry’s broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life._ ”

            “It wasn’t that bad,” Harry said hastily.

            “It was certainly much better than what happened next,” said Minerva.

            “What happened next?” Lily asked, sitting forward.

            Sirius started reading in answer. “ _”Foul!” screamed the Gryffindors._

_Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again._

_Down in the stands, Dean Thomas was yelling, “Send him off, ref! Red card!”_

_“What are you talking about, Dean?” said Ron._

_“Red card!” said Dean furiously. “In soccer you get shown the red card and you’re out of the game!”_

_“But this isn’t soccer, Dean,” Ron reminded him._

_Hagrid, however, was on Dean’s side._

_“They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air,”_

_Lee Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides._

_“So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—“_

_“Jordan!” growled Professor McGonagall._

_“I mean, after that open and revolting foul—“_

_“Jordan, I’m warning you—“_

_“All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.”_ ”

            James was grinning. “Sounds like a good team,” he said. “I bet you guys won the cup, huh?”

            The Gryffindors stayed silent and avoided eye contact with him after that.

            “ _It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened._ ”

            “That what happened?” Remus asked.

            “I was just getting to that,” Sirius said irritably. “ _His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, he thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees. He’d never felt anything like that._ ”

            “What?” James sat forward. “That shouldn’t be happening, it’s a brand new broom. What’s happening?”

            Sirius rolled his eyes. “If you let me read, I’m sure you’d find out.”

            “Right.”

            “ _It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal posts—he had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out—and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn’t turn it. He couldn’t direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him._ ”

            “What the hell?” Remus said.

            “ _Lee was still commentating._

_“Slytherin in possession—Flint with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet—passes Bell—hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherins score—oh no…”_

_The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry’s”Dun broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went._ ”

            Molly was worrying her lip, staring at the book with growing concern.

            “ _”Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom…but he can’t have….”_

_Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands._

_His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry’s broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand._ ”

            “Oh, god,” Lily muttered, her eyes blown wide with panic.

            “It was one of the scariest things I’d ever seen,” Hermione admitted quietly.

            “ _”Did something happen when Flint blocked him?” Seamus whispered._

_“Can’t have,” Hagrid said, his voice shaking. “Can’t nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic—no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand.”_

_At these words, Hermione seized Hagrid’s binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harry, she started looking frantically at the crowd._

_“What are you doing?” moaned Ron, gray-faced._

_“I knew it,” Hermione gasped, “Snape—look.”_

_Ron grabbed the binoculars. Snape was in the middle of the stands opposite them. He had his eyes fixed on Harry and was muttering nonstop under his breath._ ”

            Sirius stopped reading and turned slowly to look at Snape.

            “I am not the one jinxing his broom,” Snape said slowly and clearly.

            “What exactly are you doing then?” James demanded.

            Snape rolled his eyes. “Trying to perform the counter-curse, Potter.”

            James studied Snape for a moment, searching for any measure of deception. When he could find none, he narrowed his eyes at Snape, but sat back.

            Sirius took this as a sign to keep reading, and so he did, in hopes that the book would provide the answers that no one was willing to give.

            “ _”He’s doing something—jinxing the broom,” said Hermione._

_“What should we do?”_

_“Leave it to me.”_ ”

            “Oh,” Hermione said suddenly. “Oh, no.”

            “ _Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had disappeared. Ron turned the binoculars back on Harry. His broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good—every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing._

_“Come on, Hermione,” Ron muttered desperately._

_Hermione had fought her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was now racing along the row behind him; she didn’t even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape’s robes._ ”

            The room went deadly silent.

            Hermione shrunk backwards into her spot on the couch.

            Snape faced her with an icy look. “Ms. Granger—“

            “Severus,” Dumbledore interrupted, “she meant no harm. There is no need for this.”

            “She set me on fire,” Snape bit out.

            “I thought you were trying to kill Harry!” Hermione squeaked.

            Snape growled and opened his mouth to respond that he wasn’t, in fact, trying to kill Potter, but Dumbledore met his eyes with a look, and his mouth fell shut.

            “Sirius, if you would continue,” Dumbledore said.

            “ _It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row—Snape would never know what had happened._ ”

            “I do now,” he hissed furiously.

            “Man, he’s really going to hate reading the next book,” Ron whispered to Hermione.

            She gave him a confused look.

            “The Polyjuice potion,” said Ron lowly.

            Hermione paled. “Oh no.”

            “ _It was enough. Up in the air, Harry was suddenly able to clamber back on to his broom._

_“Neville, you can look!” Ron said. Neville had been sobbing into Hagrid’s jacket for the last five minutes._ ”

            Neville shot Hagrid an apologetic smile.

            “ _Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick—he hit the field on all fours—coughed—and something gold fell into his hand._ ”

            “No way,” James said.

            “ _”I’ve got the Snitch!” he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion._ ”

            James doubled over laughing. “Incredible,” he gasped out. “Absolutely incredible. I’m so proud!”

            Sirius snorted. “S’unfortunate that we never got to see that,” he said.

            “Well, we could,” Molly spoke up. “This…place, whatever it is, seems to provide us with whatever we need. I bet we could get a Pensieve to look at memories.”

            “That sounds like a great idea, Molly.” Remus nodded at the woman.

            “In that case, let’s get this book over with,” Sirius said. “ _”He didn’t catch it, he nearly swallowed it,” Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference—Harry hadn’t broken any rules and Lee Jordan was still happily shouting the results—Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harry heard none of this, though. He was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid’s hut, with Ron and Hermione._

_“It was Snape,” Ron was explaining, “Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.”_ ”

            Snape ground his teeth.

            “ _”Rubbish,” said Hagrid, who hadn’t heard a word of what had gone on next to him in the stands. “Why would Snape do somethin’ like that?”_

_Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth._

_“I found out something about him,” he told Hagrid. “He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it’s guarding.”_

_Hagrid dropped the teapot._

_“How do you know about Fluffy?” he said._ ”

            “Fluffy?” Molly asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

            “Er—“ Hagrid scratched his neck awkwardly. This wasn’t going to be good at all.

            “ _”Fluffy?”_

_“Yeah—he’s mine—bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las’ year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—“_

“Hagrid,” Remus groaned.

            “ _”Yes?” said Harry eagerly._

_“Now, don’t ask me anymore,” said Hagrid gruffly. “That’s top secret, that is.”_

_“But Snape’s trying to steal it.”_

_“Rubbish,” said Hagrid again. “Snape’s a Hogwarts teacher, he’d do nothin’ of the sort.”_

_“So why did he just try and kill Harry?” cried Hermione._ ”

            “I didn’t,” Snape hissed again.

            “ _The afternoon’s events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape._

_“I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I’ve read all about them! You’ve got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking at all, I saw him!”_ ”

            “You need to keep eye contact for counter curses, too,” Snape said furiously, forgetting himself for a moment.

            Hermione turned an interesting shade of scarlet.

            “ _”I’m tellin’ yeh, yer wrong!” said Hagrid hotly. “I don’ know why Harry’s broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn’ try an’ kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh—yer meddlin’ in things that don’ concern yeh. It’s dangerous. You forget that dog, an’ you forget what it’s guardin’, that’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicolas Flamel—“_

_“Aha!” said Harry, “so there’s someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?”_

_Hagrid looked furious with himself._ ”

            Sirius closed the book and waved it in Regulus’s face.

            Regulus rolled his eyes and snagged the book from his older brother’s hands.

            “So is that what got you looking into this?” Minerva asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

            They nodded.

            Minerva turned her attention to Hagrid, who was trying to hide a furiously embarrassed look.

            “Shall I start?” Regulus asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, opening the book back up. “ _Chapter twelve, The Mirror of Erised….”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, chapter fifteen. We're caught up to what I'd posted on FFN and ready for chapter sixteen!!! Let's go!!!
> 
> Also, this is the chapter when I'd found out Niall Horan had written a song for Smallfoot. I've since learned the song (great) and seen the movie (cute).
> 
> Oh my god, we made it to chapter sixteen and chapter seventeen is going to be the Alien chapter this is so exciting! I can't wait to do this. Getting back into this fanfiction is like--well, not a breathe of fresh air, but it's familiar and comforting and I like it.
> 
> This is great, guys.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


	16. The Mirror Of Erised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Copyright notice: I do not own the Harry Potter novels or characters. All rights are reserved to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers.

Previously:

 

            “So is that what got you looking into this?” Minerva asked Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

            They nodded.

            Minerva turned her attention to Hagrid, who was trying to hide a furiously embarrassed look.

            “Shall I start?” Regulus asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, opening the book back up. “ _Chapter twelve, The Mirror of Erised…._ ”

 

Now:

 

            Harry groaned immediately. “We have to skip this,” he implored. “Please.”

            “Afraid we can’t, Harry,” said Remus.

            Harry groaned again. “Fine, but don’t expect me to be happy about this one.” He then brought his knees up to his chest and hid his face in his legs.

            Regulus started reading despite his curiosity over Harry’s reluctance to read this chapter.

            “ _Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban._ ”

            The twins high fived over this, missing the look of horror that briefly passed between Ron and Hermione.

            “ _The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again._

_No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Snape’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons._

            _“I do feel so sorry,” said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they’re not wanted at home.”_ ”

            Sirius growled lowly.

            “ _He was looking over at Harry as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harry, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harry as Seeker next._ ”

            “Nah, that would only happen if Lockhart had managed to transfigure me into a tree frog,” Harry said.

            Remus and Sirius stared at him curiously while the teens in the room laughed.

            “ _Then he’d realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harry had managed to stay on his bucking broomstick._ ”

            “Which he shouldn’t have had to do in the first place,” Minerva said, her eyes flashing as she stared at Dumbledore.

            “ _So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harry about having no proper family._ ”

            “Real funny, Malfoy,” Fred snapped, surprising the Slytherin with his mood change. “Real funny.”

            Draco flushed pink.

            “ _It was true that Harry wasn’t going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harry had signed up at once. He didn’t feel sorry for himself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas he’d ever had._ ”

            A guilty look started growing on Remus and Sirius.

            “Oh, Harry,” Lily murmured, leaning her head onto James’s shoulder.

            “ _Ron and his brothers were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie._

_When they left they dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it._

_“Hi, Hagrid, want any help?” Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches._

_“Nah, I’m all right, thanks, Ron.”_

_“Would you mind moving out of the way?” came Malfoy’s cold drawl from behind them. “Are you trying to earn some extra money Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose—that hut of Hagrid’s must seem like a palace compared to what your family’s used to.”_ ”

            Regulus paused his reading to throw a look in Draco’s direction.

_“Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.”_

_“WEASLEY!”_

_Ron let go of the front of Malfoy’s robes._

_“He was provoked, Professor Snape,” said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. “Malfoy was insultin’ his family.”_

_“Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid,” said Snape silkily. “Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn’t more. Move along, all of you.”_

Minerva pursed her lips and eyed Snape over the top of her glasses.

            He shifted in his seat, refusing to meet her gaze, his face pulled tight with displeasure.

            “ _Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking._

_“I’ll get him,” said Ron, grinding his teeth at Malfoy’s back, “one of these days, I’ll get him—“”_

“Eat slugs,” Harry coughed, earning a glare from the redhead.

            “Shut _up,_ Harry, it isn’t funny.” Ron’s ears were turning red.

            Hermione saved Harry from having to answer by giggling.

            Ron turned to glare at her.

            “ _”I hate them both,” said Harry, “Malfoy and Snape.”_

_“Come on, cheer up, it’s nearly Christmas,” said Hagrid. “Tell yeh what, come with me an’ see the Great Hall, looks a treat.”_

_So the three of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations._

_“Ah, Hagrid, the last three—put it in the far corner, would you?”_

_The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles._

_“How many days you got left until yer holidays?” Hagrid asked._

_“Just one,” said Hermione. “And that reminds me—Harry, Ron, we’ve got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library.””_

“What?” Fred and George cried at the same time.

            “Harry!” Fred moaned.

            “Ronniekins!” George lamented.

            “You’ve betrayed us!” They said together. “The library? How could you?”

            “Hey,” Ron protested. “It was for a good reason!”

            “There’s no good reason for going to the library,” George said, sniffing dramatically and turning away from Ron.

            “ _”Oh yeah, you’re right,” said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree._

_“The library?” said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. “Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren’t yeh?”_

_“Oh, we’re not working,” Harry told him brightly. “Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we’ve been trying to find out who he is.”_ ”

            “Oh, that’s a reasonable thing to use the library for,” Fred said, nodding at the book.

            “Hmm.” George sniffed again, but a smirk was starting to form on his face. “I suppose. So, are we meant to take from this that when you three are in the library, it’s because you’re plotting something?”

            “No!” Harry, Ron, and Hermione all cried.

            George only laughed.

            “ _”You what?” Hagrid looked shocked. “Listen here—I’ve told yeh—drop it. It’s nothin’ to you what that dog’s guardin’.”_

_“We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that’s all,” said Hermione._

_“Unless you’d like to tell us and save us the trouble?” Harry added. “We must’ve been through hundreds of books already and we can’t find him anywhere—just give us a hint—I know I’ve read his name somewhere.”_

_“I’m sayin’ nothin’,” said Hagrid flatly._

_“Just have to find out for ourselves, then,” said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library._ ”

            Hagrid wore a similar expression now, mingled with embarrassment as he felt Minerva’s gaze on him.

            “ _They had indeed been searching books for Flamel’s name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Snape was trying to steal?_ ”

            “For the love of Merlin,” Snape muttered, narrowing his eyes at the book.

            “ _The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn’t in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardy._ ”

            “Well, of course he was,” Remus said, eyeing the trio in amusement.

            Ron and Harry scoffed.

            Hermione turned a light shade of pink and muttered something in response that no one could make out.

            “ _And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library, tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows._

_Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harry wandered over to the Restricted Section. He had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn’t somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and he knew he’d never get one._ ”

            “Lockhart,” Ron coughed, much to the confusion of the adults not present during the trio’s second year.

            “Shut up,” Hermione hissed, turning a darker pink.

            “ _These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts._

_“What are you looking for, boy?”_

_“Nothing,” said Harry._

_Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at him._

_“You’d better get out, then. Go on—out!”_

_Wishing he’d been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harry left the library. He, Ron, and Hermione had already agreed they’d better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she’d be able to tell them, but they couldn’t risk Snape hearing what they were up to._ ”

            Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed in very slowly. Yes, her Gryffindors were brave, but they could also be quite stubborn, a combination which she had yet to see be good.

            “ _Harry waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but he wasn’t very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn’t surprising they’d found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks._ ”           

            “It’s a shame you don’t have—“ Sirius started, but cut himself off after James and Remus glared at him.

            “A real shame,” Harry agreed solemnly.

            “ _Five minutes later, Ron and Hermione joined him, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch._

_“You will keep looking while I’m away, won’t you?” said Hermione. “And send me an owl if you find anything.”_

_“And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is,” said Ron. “It’d be safe to ask them.”_

_“Very safe, as they’re both dentists.”_ ”

            “What’s a dentists?” Arthur asked quickly, before Molly could stop him.

            “Dentist.” Hermione corrected him with a soft smile. “It’s a muggle who works on teeth.”

            “Teeth!” Arthur exclaimed, his face lighting up with wonder. “How fascinating!”

            “ _Once the holidays had stared, Ron and Harry were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork—bread, English muffins, marshmallows—and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn’t work._ ”

            Harry and Ron shared a glance, snickering as they remembered their more interesting ideas.

            “ _Ron also started teaching Harry wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ron’s set was very old and battered. Like everything else he owned, it had once belonged to someone else in his family—in this case, his grandfather. However, old chessmen weren’t a drawback at all. Ron knew them so well he never had trouble getting them to do what he wanted._

_Harry played with chessmen Seamus Finnigan had lent him, and they didn’t trust him at all._ ”

            “Yeah, well, I suck at chess,” Harry said, shrugging.

            “ _He wasn’t a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at him, which was confusing. “Don’t send me there, can’t you see his knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him.”_ ”

            Remus chuckled as James turned red.

            “I remember many a similar night in the common room,” Lily said, draping an arm over James’s shoulders.

            “ _On Christmas Eve, Harry went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he woke early in the morning, however, the first thing he saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed._ ”

            The good humor of the Marauders faded quickly as Regulus continued reading.

            “ _”Merry Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry scrambled out of bed and pulled on his bathrobe._

_“You, too,” said Harry. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!”_

_“What did you expect, turnips?” said Ron, turning to his own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harry’s._ ”

            “Well yeah, actually,” said Harry, “that’s pretty well along the lines of what I expected.”

            Lily frowned deeply, rubbing a hand over her stomach. “That’s awful,” she whispered.

            “ _Harry picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harry, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harry blew it—it sounded a bit like an owl._ ”

            “Thanks for that, Hagrid.” Harry grinned at him. “It was very useful.”

            “What for?” Sirius asked shrewdly, tilting his head to watch Harry.

            “Er—you’ll see.”

            “ _A second, very small parcel contained a note._

_We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece._

_“That’s friendly,” said Harry._

_Ron was fascinated by the fifty pence._

_“Weird!” he said, “What a shape! This is money?”_ ”

            Arthur grinned.

            “ _”You can keep it,” said Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron was. “Hagrid and my aunt and uncle—so who sent these?”_

_“I think I know who that one’s from,” said Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. “My mom, I told her you didn’t expect any presents and—oh, no,” he groaned, “she’s made you a Weasley sweater.”_

            _Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge._ ”

            Lily beamed at Molly. “Thank you,” she said, “so much.”

            Molly smiled back. “Of course, dear.”

            “ _”Every year she makes us a sweater,” said Ron, unwrapping his own, “and mine’s always maroon.”_

_“That’s really nice of her,” said Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty._

_His next present also contained candy—a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione._

_This only left one parcel. Harry picked it up and felt it. It was very light. He unwrapped it._

_Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds._ ”

            “No way,” James breathed. “You got it?”

            “Got what?” Neville asked.

            “Yes,” Harry laughed.

            “Awesome!” James was grinning.

            “What did you get?” Neville asked again.

            “You’re about to find out,” Ron whispered.

            “Oh, okay.”

            “ _Ron gasped._

_“I’ve heard of those,” he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans he’d gotten from Hermione. “If that’s what I think it is—they’re really rare, and really valuable.”_

_“What is it?”_

_Harry picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material._

_“It’s an invisibility cloak,” said Ron, a look of awe on his face. “I’m sure it is—try it on.”_

_Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell._

_“It is! Look down!”_

_Harry looked down at his feet, but they were gone._ ”

            “You have an invisibility cloak?” Neville asked, staring at Harry. “That’s incredible! Is that how you sneak…out of…the…never mind,” he finished awkwardly, as the adults turned to stare at him.

            Harry groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

            “Don’t worry,” Sirius whispered into his ear. “As your godfather, I would be more disappointed if you weren’t sneaking out.”

            “ _He dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looked back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulled the cloak over his head and his reflection vanished completely._

_“There’s a note!” said Ron suddenly. “A note fell out of it!”_

_Harry pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:_

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you._ ”

            James frowned and shot a glance at Dumbledore. The handwriting sounded familiar, but why would he give the headmaster his cloak?

            “ _There was no signature. Harry stared at the note. Ron was admiring the cloak._

_“I’d give anything for one of these,” he said. “Anything. What’s the matter?”_

_“Nothing,” said Harry. He felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father?_ ”

            “It was the first thing I had from either of you that I knew about,” Harry admitted quietly.

            A somber silence descended on the room.

            “ _Before he could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harry stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. He didn’t feel like sharing it with anyone else yet._

_“Merry Christmas!”_

_“Hey, look—Harry’s got a Weasley sweater, too!”_

_Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G._ ”

            “Did you switch them?” Molly asked, narrowing her eyes at the twins.

            “No!” George cried

            “Of course not!” Fred exclaimed, hand over his heart.

            “I can’t believe our own mother doesn’t trust us,” George sighed, wiping away a tear.

            Molly groaned.

            “They didn’t switch them,” Harry laughed, ignoring the betrayed looks on the twins’ faces. “They just let people think they do.”

            “Hey!”

            “ _”Harry’s sweater is better than ours, though,” said Fred, holding up Harry’s sweater. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.”_

_“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George demanded. “Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.”_

_“I hate maroon,” Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head._

_“You haven’t got a letter on yours,” George observed. “I supposed she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid—we know we’re called Gred and Forge.”_ ”            Ginny snickered.

            “ _”What’s all this noise?”_

_Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seized._

_“P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we’re all wearing ours, even Harry got one.”_

_“I—don’t—want—“ said Percy thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew._

_“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family.”_

_They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater._ ”

            The twins scowled at the book while Ron and Ginny glared at Percy.

            “ _Harry had never in his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas; silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce—and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulled a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn’t just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral’s hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard’s hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him._

_Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Percy nearly broke his teeth on a silver sickle embedded in his slice._ ”

            Fred laughed. There was a sharp edge to it.

            “ _Harry watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry’s amazement, giggled and blushed, her top hat lopsided._

_When Harry finally left the table, he was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs. Norris’s Christmas dinner._

_Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. He suspected he wouldn’t have lost so badly if Percy hadn’t tried to help him so much._ ”

            Percy shifted in his seat, avoiding the stares from the rest of his family.

            Ron scoffed and muttered something that earned him a sharp jab to the ribs from Hermione.

            “ _After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they’d stolen his prefect badge._

_It had been Harry’s best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbed into bed was he free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever sent it._

_Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, fell asleep almost as soon as he’d drawn the curtains of his four-poster. Harry leaned over the side of his own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it._

_His father’s…this had been his father’s. He let the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said._ ”

            James started grinning. “Oh, this should be good.”

            Harry sighed. “That’s one word for it.”

            “ _He had to try it, now. He slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling._ ”           

            James, Remus, and Sirius nodded in agreement.

            “ _Use it well._

_Suddenly, Harry felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to him in this cloak. Excitement flooded through him as he stood there in the dark and silence. He could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know._

_Ron grunted in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something held him back—his father’s cloak—he felt that this time—the first time—he wanted to use it alone._ ”

            Ron tried to pull his face into a frown, but he could only laugh slightly. “No worries, mate.”

            “ _He crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole._

_“Who’s there?” squawked the Fat Lady. Harry said nothing. He walked quickly down the corridor._

_Where should he go? He stopped, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He’d be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took him to find out who Flamel was. He set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around him as he walked._

_The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lit a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harry could feel his arm supporting it, the sight gave him the creeps._

_The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles._

_They didn’t tell him much. Their peeling, fading gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn’t understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood._ ”

            “It probably was,” Minerva said thoughtfully.

            “ _The hairs on the back of Harry’s neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn’t be._ ”

            “And I still picked one up,” Harry muttered.

            “ _He had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, let it fall open._

_A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence—the book was screaming!_ ”

            “Harry,” Hermione groaned. “Of all the books, you had to choose the screaming one?”

            Harry just held his hands up defensively.

            “ _Harry snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbled backward and knocked over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside—stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he ran for it. He passed Filch in the doorway; Filch’s pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slipped under Filch’s outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book’s shrieks still ringing in his ears._ ”

            Snape was beginning to understand something, and he narrowed his eyes at the book.

            “ _He came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He had been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going. Perhaps because it was dark, he didn’t recognize where he was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there._

_“You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody’s been in the library—Restricted Section.”_

_Harry felt the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to his horror, it was Snape who replied, “The Restricted Section? Well, they can’t be far, we’ll catch them.”_ ”

            Snape was now scowling deeply, glancing from the book to a sheepishly grinning Harry.

            “ _Harry stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn’t see him, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they’d knock right into him—the cloak didn’t stop him from being solid._ ”

            James was laughing so hard that he’d gone silent, slapping his knee in a desperate attempt to breathe again.

            “Shut up,” Sirius whined, covering his face with his hands. “It happened once!”

            “Yeah, our first year. How many times did it happen second year?” Remus asked.

            “Shut up!” Sirius repeated.

            “ _He backed away as quietly as he could. A door stood ajar to his left. It was his only hope. He squeezed through it, holding his breath, trying not to move it, and to his relief he managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before he noticed anything about the room he had hidden in._ ”

            This was it. Harry drew his legs up to his chest and stared at the floor, listening to Regulus continue reading as the dread settled like an anvil in his stomach.

            “ _It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket—but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way._

_It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ ”

            “Sorry, it says what now?” Ginny asked.

            Regulus repeated the text.

            “It’s mirror language,” Amelia said softly. “I show not your face but your heart’s desire.”

            “Oh,” Ginny said.

            “ _His panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again._ ”

            Fred snickered.

            “ _He stepped in front of it._

_He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming._ ”

            “What?” Lily asked. “What is it?”

            “Just…listen,” Harry muttered, voice muffled by his legs.

            “ _He whirled around. His heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed—for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him._ ”

            “But the room was empty!” Lily cried, twisting her wedding ring on her finger, face drawn with anxiety.

            “Wasn’t the room,” Harry mumbled.

            “ _But the room was empty._ ”

            A ripple of laughter passed through the room as the book echoed Lily’s thoughts.

            “ _Breathing very fast, he turned slowly back to the mirror._

_There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder—but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was he in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror’s trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?_

Molly was formulating a theory in her head about what was going on, and one look at Harry’s face confirmed it. She felt her heart crack slightly as she watched him.

            “ _He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she really was there, he’d touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air—she and the others existed only in the mirror._ ”

            Lily came to the same conclusion as Molly. She buried her head in James’s shoulder, trying not to cry.

            “ _She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes—her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green—exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry’s did._

_Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection._

_“Mom?” he whispered. “Dad?”_

_They just looked at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man who looked as though he had Harry’s knobbly knees—Harry was looking at his family, for the first time in his life._ ”

            The room had gone silent save for Regulus’s voice as he read.

            He stopped as he reached this part, and stared at the text for a long moment. The older he got, the more Regulus began to understand why Sirius had become so disenchanted with his parents and their ideals, but he couldn’t imagine not knowing who they were or what they looked like for the first eleven years of his life.

            “Harry….” Neville said softly.

            “‘S fine, mate,” Harry said.

            From the disgruntled noises that echoed around the room, Harry gathered that it was not, in fact, fine, but it was easier to not address it at the moment.

            Slowly, Regulus began reading again.

            “ _The Potters smiled and waved at Harry and he stared hungrily back at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. He had a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness._ ”

            Lily sniffled and buried her face deeper into the crook of James’s neck.

            “ _How long he stood there, he didn’t know. The reflections did not fade and he looked and looked until a distant noise brought him back to his senses. He couldn’t stay here, he had to find his way back to bed. He tore his eyes away from his mother’s face, whispered, “I’ll come back,” and hurried from the room._ ”

            “No, don’t,” James said, his voice thick. “That’s a dangerous mirror.”

            “ _”You could have woken me up,” said Ron, crossly._

_“You can come tonight, I’m going back, I want to show you the mirror.”_

_“I’d like to see your mom and dad,” Ron said eagerly._ ”

            Ron flushed. “I know it doesn’t work like that now,” he muttered when he felt Hermione staring at him.

            “ _”And I want to see all your family, all the Weasleys, you’ll be able to show me your older brothers and everyone.”_

_“You can see them any old time,” said Ron. “Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren’t you eating anything?”_

_Harry couldn’t eat. He had seen his parents and would be seeing them again tonight. He had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn’t seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three-headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Snape stole it, really?_

_“Are you all right?” said Ron. “You look odd.”_ ”

            “Mirror, mirror, on the wall,” Hermione said.

            “Didn’t poison any apples, though, just some little cakes,” said Harry.

            “What?”

            “You’ll find out later,” Harry and Hermione choursed.

            “ _What Harry feared most was that he might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ron covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harry’s route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour._

_“I’m freezing,” said Ron. “Let’s forget it and go back.”_

_“No!” Harry hissed. “I know it’s here somewhere.”_

_They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. Just as Ron started moaning that his feet were dead with cold, Harry spotted the suit of armor._

_“It’s here—just here—yes!”_

_They pushed the door open. Harry dropped the cloak from around his shoulders and ran to the mirror._

_There they were. His mother and father beamed at the sight of him._

_“See?” Harry whispered._

_“I can’t see anything.”_

_“Look! Look at them all…there are loads of them….”_

_“I can only see you.”_

_“Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am.”_

_Harry stepped aside, but with Ron in front of the mirror, he couldn’t see his family anymore, just Ron in his paisley pajamas._

_Ron, though, was staring transfixed at his image._

_“Look at me!” he said._

_“Can you see all your family standing around you?”_

_“No—I’m alone—but I’m different—I look older—and I’m head boy!”_ ”

            “What?” Fred and George shrieked. “Head boy?

            “Shut up,” Ron muttered, resisting the urge to play with the Prefect badge still pinned to his robes.

            “We’re so disappointed in you, Ronniekins,” George lamented.

            Percy, however, did not share in the twins’ teasing, but instead cast a curious glance at Ron.

            “ _”What?”_

_“I am—I’m wearing the badge like Bill used to—and I’m holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup—I’m Quidditch captain, too!”_

_Ron tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harry._

_“Do you think this mirror shows the future?”_ ”

            “Ronald!” Ginny cried, torn between annoyance and amusement.

            Ron just groaned and covered his face with his hands.

            “ _”How can it? All my family are dead—let me have another look—“_

_“You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time.”_

_“You’re only holding the Quidditch cup, what’s interesting about that?”_ ”

            A round of laughter passed through the room.

            “You really do have a sense of humor, Harry,” Remus chuckled.

            “Thanks,” said Harry dryly.

            “ _”I want to see my parents.”_

_“Don’t push me—“_

_A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn’t realized how loudly they had been talking._

_“Quick!”_

_Ron threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mrs. Norris came round the door. Ron and Harry stood quite still, both thinking the same thing—did the cloak work on cats?_ ”

            “No,” Minerva said.

            The Marauders turned and stared at her, all sporting grins.

            “ _After what seemed an age, she turned and left._

_“This isn’t safe—she might have gone for Filch, I bet she head us. Come on.”_

_And Ron pulled Harry out of the room._

_The snow still hadn’t melted the next morning._

_“Want to play chess, Harry?” said Ron._

_“No.”_

_“Why don’t we go down and visit Hagrid?”_

_“No…you go…”_

_“I know what you’re thinking about, Harry, that mirror. Don’t go back tonight.”_ ”

            “See?” Ron cried, turning to Hermione. “I tried to keep him away from that mirror, but he wouldn’t listen to me!”

            “ _”Why not?”_

_“I dunno, I’ve just got a bad feeling about it—and anyway, you’ve had too many close shaves already. Filch, Snape, and Mrs. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can’t see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?”_

_“You sound like Hermione.”_ ”

            “That’s because he was telling you what I’d worried about,” Hermione said.

            “ _”I’m serious, Harry, don’t go.”_

_But Harry only had one thought in his head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ron wasn’t going to stop him._

_That third night he found his way more quickly than before. He was walking so fast he knew he was making more noise than was wise, but he didn’t meet anyone._

_And there were his mother and father smiling at him again, and one of his grandfathers nodding happily. Harry sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop him from staying here all night with his family. Nothing at all._ ”

            “Oh, Harry,” James sighed.

            “ _Except—_

_“So—back again, Harry?”_

_Harry felt as though his insides had turned to ice. He looked behind him. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore. Harry must have walked straight past him, so desperate to get to the mirror he hadn’t noticed him._

_“I—I didn’t see you, sir.”_

_“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” said Dumbledore, and Harry was relieved to see that he was smiling._ ”

            “Yes, well, I’m nearsighted anyways, so that’s just a risk, isn’t it?” Harry wondered with a smirk, pushing his glasses up his nose.

            “ _”So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harry, “you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”_

_“I didn’t know it was called that, sir.”_

_“But I expect you’ve realized by now what it does?”_

_“It—well—it shows me my family—“_

_“And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy.”_

_“How did you know—?”_

_“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” said Dumbledore gently. “Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?”_

_Harry shook his head._

_“Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?”_

_Harry thought. Then he said slowly, “It shows us what we want…whatever we want…”_

_“Yes and no,” said Dumbledore quietly. “It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of them all.”_ ”

            Ron went a dark shade of red and avoided the gazes of his family, all of whom were now staring at him. “I don’t think that any more,” he said, a little sharply.

            “ _”However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible._

_“The Mirror will be moved to a new home, tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again.”_ ”

            “Oops,” Harry mumbled.

            “ _”If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?”_

_Harry stood up._

_“Sir—Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?”_

_“Obviously, you’ve just done so,” Dumbledore smiled. “You may ask me one more thing, however.”_

_“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”_

_“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.”_

_Harry stared._

_“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”_

_It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question._ ”

            Regulus closed the book and handed it to a very reluctant Draco, who handled it gingerly, as if it might attack him if he so much as thought a negative thought about it.

            “That’s the end of the chapter,” Regulus said softly, observing the room.

            “Great!” Hermione jumped up and glanced at Harry. “I think it’s time for a movie!”

            “That sounds wonderful,” Draco agreed quickly, dropping the book on the table in front of him. “I have no idea what a movie is, but not reading more of this book for as long as possible sounds good to me.”

            “Does this mean it’s time to show them Alien?” Harry wondered, grinning eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my GOD you guys, we DID IT, we reached chapter sixteen, and chapter seventeen is probably going to be the longest filler chapter yet because I'm finally going to VERY HAPPILY write the Alien chapter and it's going to be WONDERFUL and I'm so happy, guys, thank you for sticking with me this long, even through a jump from fic sharing platforms, this has been incredible and I'm so happy.
> 
> There's so much I want to say, and I don't even know how to start.
> 
> But here we are, and chapter seventeen is on the way, and we are five chapters away from the end of the book and two filler chapters away from reaching the end of part one, and then we will be able to start on the Chamber of Secrets, and I promised you guys that I wouldn't give up on this story, and I intend to hold true to that promise, even if it takes forever to finish.
> 
> There is one thing I've learned from this, though, and it's that no matter how hard I try, I cannot stick to a regular posting schedule, because life has a habit of getting in the way. Everything happens constantly, all the time, and it never stops.
> 
> It's unfortunate. What's not unfortunate, though, is how much I love writing this story and how happy it makes me that you guys still love this story, too.
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking by this story for as long as you have. I haven't given up on it yet.
> 
> Signing out for now,
> 
> WolfMist

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so unlike FFN, I'm just going to move my rambling notes to the end.
> 
> There most definitely WILL be Dumbledore bashing. I am Not A Fan of Albus Dumbledore. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great character, but dear lord, did he do a lot wrong. We’ll get into that in future chapters, though.
> 
> Signing out for now,  
> WolfMist


End file.
